We Didn't Start The Fire
by Lynnth2014
Summary: When a child goes missing and calling the police isn't an option, homicide detective Carol Williams is targeted and taken by a drug lord to recover the child. She soon finds herself caught up in a web of murder, drugs, a territory war, and a killer who never took his eyes off of her and everything she holds dear.
1. The Ones We Couldn't Save

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Carol Williams stood a few feet away from the mourning family, her hands clasped in front of her, her swollen eyes hidden behind her sunglasses, and she lifted her chin as the family began to walk away. She knew soon she, too, would have to walk away, but for now, she wanted to say a final goodbye to the victim that had lead them to the killer. She had been to six funerals this week, and she had mourned every one of these lost angels. She couldn't stand child killers. Sweeping in and stealing the lives and the innocence from not only the victim but their families. They were sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers who would never be the same.

Ceasar Martinez—her partner, her brother, her best friend—stood beside her. He wore sunglasses as well, but he wasn't crying. His heart went out to the families, but he tried to keep that darkness away from himself. He didn't want to bring that home with him, not to his little girl and wife. He already brought home enough, so this stayed at the office and with his partner. She cried at every funeral, and he stood by her side. As he always would.

They left the funeral last, Carol had placed some flowers on the headstone, and Caesar had left a small metal cross by the headstone as he always did when the murders were brutal. He wanted them to know they were being guided to a better place. It helped him sleep at night. Sometimes. This case would stay with them like a scar. A scar on their hearts and their minds.

The drive to Carol's apartment was silent. There were no words to fill the silence on days like this, and they were both exhausted—physically, mentally and emotionally. They had worked to the bone to find this son of a bitch, and now they could rest. At least for one night, and maybe tomorrow would be better.

"Do you want to come over for dinner?" Caesar asked as he stopped the car in front of her apartment. "We're having that casserole you love so much."

"No, but thank you."

"You sure? It's gonna be good."

"I'm sure. Tell the Andrea I said hey, and kiss your little girl for me." She slipped out of the car. "Drive safe."

"Always do, Williams." He smirked as she closed the door and stepped back. "Bye."

"Bye." She tossed a wave over her shoulder and climbed up the stairs to her apartment. She removed her jacket and threw it on the couch, running her finger over the spines of the books on her shelf, finding the album. She plucked it out and set it on the coffee table, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and taking a seat.

"Pppt." She blew air out of her lips and flipped open the cover, running her eyes over the obituaries on the pages then she turned the pages until she found a vacant space. She opened the wood box on her end table and pulled out the obituaries from this murder. She placed them gently onto the page and smoothed the plastic cover over their small smiling faces. She had lost half a dozen kids to this monster and that bastard was rotting in prison where he belonged. She couldn't hope for anything more.

Cracking the seal on her water, she tipped it back and chugged it. It wasn't what she wanted, but she had been over ten years sober, so it would be one hell of a setback if it was what she wanted. She swallowed and sighed, leaning back on the couch and staring briefly at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and listened to the city. It wasn't at all calming. It was loud and chaotic and horrifying—she loved it. She loved every second of it, because she got the chance to make people feel a little safer. There were still plenty of killers out there, but that just gave her a reason to wake up in the morning. She knew she wouldn't get them all, but she was going to do her best to try.

She shifted on the couch and blew out a slow breath, running her hands over her face. She was utterly drained by this case. She had stayed up so many nights to try and find some tiny shred of evidence that would lead them to the killer. She looked over the pictures and bodies so many times. The images wouldn't leave her head now, and she wanted a drink. She _needed_ a drink so badly, but she wouldn't succumb to the urge. She had to keep her mind clear. She had to do it for him. She had to keep sober for him.

She stood up and opened her eyes, entering her kitchen to prepare something for dinner. She would figure out what sounded good after she made a salad. She rolled up her sleeves and loosened a button on her blouse, grasping the thick locket underneath and lifting it up to her lips—a silent vow she made every day.

She opened the fridge and pulled out some fresh vegetables, her eyes drifting to the end table where the picture of them used to be. She'd lost a lot of things as a cop. She just couldn't cope with his loss.

She sighed for probably the hundredth time today and cleared her mind. It'd been twelve years, and there wasn't a second that went by that she didn't want to go back in time and change the events of that day. She would always remember it. It was etched into her body and soul; her mind cruelly and relentlessly playing the events that lead up to that fatal moment on a loop every night. Night after night she would save him, night after night she found a different way to go about that case, and night after night she hated herself for letting him go. Obsession and rage made her stupid, and stupid got him killed. She would never let that happen to anyone else. That day drove her forward, and ever since she kept the obituaries of every man, woman and child who lost their lives while they searched for the murderers as a reminder, as motivation. She would never let anyone down as she had let him down. Never.

– – –

"Daddy's home!" Keira informed the house, slipping off the couch and bolting to the door.

Andrea looked up from the seemingly endless paperwork as her husband entered the house, dropping to his knees to pick up their seven-year-old and embracing her, as he did every time he came home. She set her pen down and rose out of the chair, smiling at the sight of them, and he carried Keira over to her and kissed her.

"Welcome home."

"It's good to be home." He smiled. "How was your day?"

"Hectic, but someone brought in pastries so I couldn't complain with my mouth full of danish." She crossed her arms. "I didn't get a chance to start dinner; I've been drowning in paper work. I'll make it tomorrow night. Sorry."

"No, it's fine." It's a good thing Carol didn't come over then. "Well, I'm going to wash up so we can make dinner for you, and you can tell me about your day, baby." He set her down. "Go wash up."

They waited until she was upstairs to speak about the case. Andrea knew this case had been hard on him, and she knew by the nightmares he had been having lately it wasn't just going to go away now that the killer had been caught and justice had been served. It never ended in the courtroom for him. He cared deeply about each victim, even if he tried to separate himself from them. Their previous case was open and shut, and the girl had been rescued, but not this time.

"How was the service?"

"The same as always." He rolled his sleeves up and washed his hands, as if to scrub this case off. "I gave the family my condolences and stayed by Carol."

"Caesar—"

"She was a year older than Keira," he whispered. "All I could see was Keira in her face, and I thought if I was the one to arrest that son of a bitch, he wouldn't make it to the precinct. I would have—"

"You wouldn't have killed him," Andrea interrupted him. "You're a good man, and you would have done the right thing."

"I don't know that."

She wrapped her arms around him from behind and held him. "But I do."

He exhaled deeply, frustratedly, and then he set his hands over hers. "I hope you're right."

"I'm always right when it comes to you." She smirked, not minding his wet fingers.

He turned in her arms and grasped her waist, his forehead brushing hers, and his eyes closed. "You'll have to keep reminding me."

"Which: that I'm always right or that you're a good man?"

"Both."

She set her hands on his cheeks. "I love you, and I am always here for you."

He turned his head and kissed her palm, opening his eyes. "I can't thank God enough for putting you in my life." He kissed her lips, and her arms slid around his neck. He always felt better after coming home to them. It was as if they cleansed him with their unconditional love. He would never let anything happen to them. That was the one vow he would always keep. Along with his wedding vows, of course.

Andrea pulled away, hearing Keira on the stairs. "Don't worry about him anymore. He's where he belongs."

"So am I."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "I have paperwork. Get to cooking. I'm starving."

"I need my sous chef."

Keira jumped off the last step. "I'm here!"

He picked her up and set her on the counter. "Now we can begin." He tossed a pepper at her, and she caught it, giggling. She was glad her dad was home. It was always fun when they were all home together.

––

At nine o' clock there was a knock on the door, Andrea and Caesar were curled up on the couch, going over one of her files and having a laugh. They knew who it was, so Andrea gave him a kiss and told him to try and slip into bed quietly, and he stepped out, meeting Carol at the bottom of the stairs. He didn't speak, just fell into step beside her.

Every night Carol needed a walk, they took one down the street—four or five if she needed—to clear the thoughts swarming her mind, and to keep him from falling down the same path as her. Sometimes they spoke of issues, sometimes of unimportant nonsense, teasing and laughing, and sometimes it was silent, the night air all they needed as they wandered forward. He always knew what kind of night it would be by the look in her eyes, and tonight was issues. He had some to share, but he always let her go first. He had ranted last time, and he owed her anyhow.

"How's Keira?" Carol inquired, turning toward him slightly as they ambled down the sidewalk.

"She's great. She wants to learn how to play the cello though."

"Really? Whatever for?"

"She found one in Ty's music shop and just became obsessed with the thing." He chuckled. "Andrea's considering it. I'm okay with it either way."

"How old is she now? Six?"

"Seven."

"Big girl."

"Yeah." He glanced at her. "You all right? You don't usually bring up Keira."

"Well, I should know how my goddaughter's doing, don't you think?" She smiled. "And don't start asking me how I am. I'm fine. It's been...a long couple of days, but I'm fine."

"How could you be?" Caesar locked eyes with her, and they stopped walking. "I'm not. When we found those bodies...those kids... I'll never forget that moment." His eyes seemed to darken under the pale streetlamp lights. "I saw you today. You're not fine."

She sucked in a shaky breath. "Fine, I'm miserable and struggling. Are you happy?"

"No." He shoved his hands into his pocket. "The thought of what happened... I still have nightmares. I let you down, Carol, and I can never make up for that."

She knew this wasn't just about their latest case. It was about what happened then, and he assumed this case triggered something in her. It had, but he should never have even entertained the thoughts he was having. "Caesar, no, it wasn't your fault. I don't blame you. _I never blamed you_." She set a hand on his shoulder. "I don't want to talk about this, but I don't need you to know that what happened was in no way your fault. You didn't follow us, and you sure hell didn't pull the trigger."

"I might as well have." His deep brown eyes held a sorrow that she hated to see.

"It's...been twelve years," she whispered. "There's no moving on, but...I think we're getting stronger, and he would be proud of that."

He sucked in a deep breathe, his eyes glossy under the streetlights, and he chuckled humorlessly. "Shit, I didn't meant to bring this up."

"I know."

He cleared his throat. "Let's go get a coffee. Decaf, though. I gotta get up pretty early and take Keira to school."

"I'll buy."

"And a slice of pie?"

"Don't push your luck."

He laughed, and she cracked a small smile. It was a nice night for a walk and some coffee. It was better than what she used to do at nine. She was glad Andrea let her borrow Caesar. She used to go out with Andrea, but now they had Keira and Andrea got a promotion that worked her to the bone, so it was easier for Caesar to come out most nights. On a few occasions, Andrea joined her. Their conversations weren't about kids or work, but of life and the future. Carol didn't come early enough to see Keira. She would have to remedy that. She missed that little angel. Maybe tomorrow.

How many maybe tomorrows was she going to use until she actually went over there? She gripped her locket, brushing her thumb over the engraving on the back, taking small breaths. She was never one to talk about the past. It had proven how cruel the world could be.


	2. Taken

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

 _The sounds of children's laughter surrounded them as they walked hand-in-hand down the street, the sun catching their faces. It had been a long but fun day, and they were on their way home. They were cutting through the park, mostly because it was a beautiful day, and they had been stuck running around doing errands all morning. They hadn't got to enjoy the day, and now they were, at least for a few more blocks._

 _Then the entire world tilted as warm blood splattered across her face, his body falling forward..._

Her eyes snapped out, her lips parted as harsh, panicked breaths escaped, and she pushed herself up, running a hand over her brow. She looked around and saw that she was still in her bedroom in her apartment. She was. She was even still in her clothes. She had been too exhausted to change. It had only been a nightmare. A really vivid as shit nightmare.

Setting her feet on the floor, she rose and headed to the bathroom to wash her face. The cold water woke her up but didn't chase off the nightmare. She inhaled and exhaled, gripping the side of the sink and she looked at her reflection, calming herself. Those first few years without him had taken a lot out of her, and to this day she still felt that toll. She felt that if anyone should have paid that bill it was her, never him. She couldn't wish herself away, because that was the last thing he wanted, and it wouldn't bring him back. She knew that now, and she just had to keep reminding herself on nights like this. She would be fine. She just needed to remember to breathe.

She released the sink and dried her face and hands off, staggering down the hall to the living room to see what the time was. "Great," she muttered.

It was three in the morning, and she was now wide awake. She could try and do some housework then take a nap until she had to leave for work. Her laundry was piling up into a mountain in the bathroom and bedroom, and it wasn't as if she was going to take a day off to do it. She had so much time off piled up it was ridiculous. Caesar was jealous. He wanted to take his girls on vacation but couldn't get time off. He's shooting for this summer. If she could, she would gladly give him all of her days. She didn't want them.

She gathered her clothes and prepared some tea while she separated the whites from the coloreds. She had a bit of trouble looking for the fabric softener and detergent, but she found them in the back of the closet. She grabbed her to-go cup and filled it with tea before leaving for the laundry room. At least no one would be down there, and she didn't have to make idle conversation with neighbors she didn't know. Most of them had moved on, and she worked so much she didn't really get a chance to introduce herself. Maybe one day.

Taking the stairs was the best way to go anywhere—no one ever used the stairs, unless the building was on fire, and even then it was questionable. She'd seen just how lazy people could be, and it was also terrifying to climb down stairs with a horde of people behind you pushing and shoving to save themselves. She had been in a building that had been caught on fire to cover a double homicide, and she had seen how reckless and selfish some people were. They almost stampeded a girl, but luckily Caesar had helped her, and Carol caught that asshole with the help of the Captain. Michonne was one hell of a shot.

She began with her whites and scanned the empty room, tapping her fingers on the cup. She should have brought a book. She didn't own a lot of books. She didn't particularly have a lot of time to read them, not with the cases and extra work she took on. If she had brought her phone, she could have gone over her emails. Maybe Porter found something she overlooked. Doubtful, as she had memorized everything in that file, but she was paying him for a reason. He was intelligent and a fresh pair of eyes on a case over a decade old. He might find something. She hoped he did.

After a lot of pacing, she found a magazine and flipped through it, lazily reading the pages and wondering just how much longer it was going to take for clothes to be clean. She wasn't a fan of reading into people's lives unless they were victims or murderers. The last time she dug into someone's life...it cost her.

Tossing the magazine down, she checked the time. She was impatient. She wanted to go upstairs, have some tea in an actual mug and watch cars drive by from her window. That tended to put her to sleep. Or she got lost in her thoughts, but that usually happened when she was working a case.

Distantly, she heard a fight and approached the door as a young couple were having it out in the hall about taking care of the house. She stepped back as the young man flew toward the laundry room, dropping some clothes in his wake. She leaned against the back wall, grateful her clothes were almost done. She didn't want to get swept up in their drama, but she couldn't help being nice.

"You dropped some things." She pointed them out to him.

"Thanks." He collected the fallen items.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He glanced at her. "You didn't hear any of that, did you?"

"No, not a word." She smiled, lying through her teeth.

"Oh, good." He let out a relieved chuckle.

That was the extent of their conversation, he didn't want to talk about it, and soon Carol's clothes were done. She carried them back up the stairs and folded them in her apartment, having a second cup of tea, and she fell asleep curled up on the couch, leaving them in the basket on her coffee table.

– – –

Caesar woke up Keira while Andrea took a shower, and she woke easily this morning. He made a pot of coffee, watching the cat roll across the floor for no reason whatsoever. He suspected the cat was insane, as she spent most of her time running through the place at top speed and meowing. He didn't understand it, but she was Keira's rescue kitty, and he was attached the thing, no matter how evil it was sometimes.

He rubbed his eyes and pulled down two bowls for breakfast cereal. Andrea always had a either grapefruit or granola in yogurt, which he found—the grapefruit—disgusting, but she liked them so he bought them and also cut them the way she liked. It didn't take long for him to get dressed, so he made breakfast. Sometimes it was actual waffles and bacon, not just toast, cereal and milk. Today, he didn't feel like making a big breakfast, and Keira had to be at school for a field trip. He didn't want to make her late. He had to make her lunch as well.

Andrea dressed quickly and pulled her hair into a high bun, seeing Keira in the doorway. She looked over her shoulder at her daughter. "Want me to fix your hair?"

"Yeah." She smiled and joined her mom by her vanity, holding out her hair tie.

"All right." She brushed out Keira's long black hair with her extra hairbrush and gathered it, braiding it back today. She always changed up how she did Keira's hair. When she was a teenager, she used to help her kid sister with her hair. Amy loved braids, and she always begged and bribed Andrea the night before they went to school or went someplace nice. Eventually, it just began a part of their routine—before Andrea left for college anyway. Andrea had spent a week teaching their mom how to braid the ridiculous braids Amy liked, as a gift. Nowadays Amy just curled her hair or left it straight. Well, that's how it was the last time they saw each other.

"You're good to go." She rose. "Go eat breakfast. It's getting late."

"Okay. Thanks, Mommy." She smiled before leaving the room.

Andrea smiled to herself, collecting her briefcase and making sure all of her files were inside. She then joined them and was appreciative Caesar had taken the time to cut her grapefruit. He hated them—the feel, the taste, the smell—but he still cut them for her.

"I'm going to invite Carol over for dinner," Caesar informed his wife as she had a seat.

"That'd be great." She met his eyes. "Why now though?"

"I was thinking about it last night. She hasn't been around in a while, and she even said she wanted to see Keira, so I figure I'd invite her over."

"If you have to work late, you can postpone it till your case is concluded, but that would be great. I haven't spoken to her in a while. I miss talking to her." She drank from her coffee mug. "Do you remember Carol, sweetie?"

Keira smiled. "Yeah. She used to bring us cookies. They were really yummy."

"Yeah, she did." Caesar had forgotten that. He wasn't sure if she baked anymore. "I could see if she would make some cookies for you. Would you like that?"

"Yeah! Could she?"

"Caesar," Andrea scolded, disliking that he was making plans for Carol who had a busy schedule without him adding to it. It was Tuesday, and every Tuesday, she went to help counsel the families who had lost someone on a case she worked. She did everything in her power to make it to her sessions. She could relate to their loss, and she had also handed their cases so it helped them to just see her, to hear her voice and her dedication to her job. It was interesting to watch their faces. Andrea had sat through a few sessions with her, and Carol was a great influence in their lives. Carol was an amazing detective and a truly admirable person. Caesar was very lucky to have grown up with her and to have become her partner. Knowing that Carol was out there made Andrea feel at ease. Andrea could take care of herself, but children and teenagers weren't always so well-equip. Carol made this city better for them—for Keira—and _that_ put Andrea at ease.

Cleaning up, Andrea made sure Keira had everything she would need for school, Caesar kissed her goodbye and headed out with their daughter. Andrea locked up after them, digging her keys out of her pocket. Caesar drove Keira to school, and he kissed Keira's forehead and told her to have fun but to listen to the teacher. He watched her head into her school and stepped back toward his car. He knew his buddy Paul was going to be chaperoning, so he would keep an eye on her for him. Her and all the kids.

––

Arriving at the precinct, he was immediately bombarded by Carol, who accepted the coffee he had brought her. She led him through the building, explaining what he had missed, and he was surprised she hadn't called him. With something like this, he assumed she would have blown the shit out of his phone.

"Wait, slow down." He stopped outside the lounge. "What happened?"

"That's what we're going to find out." She opened the door.

Inside there was a young black man who looked torn apart. His eyes were red, he kept rubbing the back of his neck, partly rocking himself as a way to try and sooth himself; and he was staring with wide eyes at nothing in particular. He was just a mess, and Caesar felt his heart break for the kid.

Carol sat down beside him and set a hand on his shoulder consolingly, giving him the smallest of smiles that said a thousand hopeful things. She had a way of calming people down with a look or a gesture, and it was her gift alone, so her coworkers tell her. Repeatedly. She was always the one to break the bad news to the families, like it was her specialty. She didn't mind however. She felt better being the one to deliver the news. She had been on both sides and she knew what to say. It never eased the pain or filled the void in their lives, but it helped them. It let them know that there were people who were dedicated to finding the person or persons who did this and ensuring they paid for it.

"My name is Detective Carol Williams. This is my partner, Caesar Martinez." She set her coffee down and turned to him. "So I was told you asked for us by name."

"Yeah, I—I did." He looked from Carol to Caesar and back. "Look, I know you probably can't just take any case you want, but I need you to take mine. I need your help."

"Yours?" Caesar pulled up a chair. "What case?"

"It's my girlfriend. Beth Greene." He ran a hand down his chin. "We were supposed to meet at the mall to find a gift for her sister. She's turning twenty-seven in less than a week, and we were going to drive down there for the weekend to surprise her. Beth loves road trips." He stopped to take a deep breath, his voice shaky. "I—I went to meet her, but I was running late, and when I got there...she wasn't anywhere to be found. Not even her car." He met Carol's eyes. "I thought she had left, so I called her and texted her, but she didn't respond. That was _two_ days ago."

"Two days ago?" Carol frowned. "Why didn't you file—"

"I did, but they haven't done anything."

"Who did you speak to?" Caesar asked.

"I don't know his name. He was an older man, white, brown eyes and hair. That's all I remember about him."

Carol silently sighed. He just described half the men in the station. "All right, why come to us?"

"I've read about you." His eyes were trained on Carol, but he was talking to and about both of them. "You both genuinely care about people, and she needs people like you two to look for her. I know you won't give up, and you'll do everything you possibly can to locate her. You're the best in your department, and I am _begging_ you to please, please look for Beth. I don't know if she's... if she's even alive. I—God." He buried his face in his hands at his comment. He couldn't stomach this.

"How was your relationship with Ms. Greene?" Caesar asked, curious to see if this was just some nut whose girlfriend left him and he wasn't letting go, or if he was being honest, although he knew the answer.

"She moved in with me...about two years ago. We...we started dating a month or so after that. She's originally from Georgia, but she decided to leave for college, to see a different part of the world, and we met on campus. She was the art major, and I'm the computer geek." He smiled sadly to himself. "The last thing she said to me was: I'll see you at the mall. I love you." It was a message saved to his phone. It may be the last message he ever received from her. He covered his mouth with his hand.

Carol rubbed her hands together. "I can't promise you anything...?"

"Noah. Noah Bridges."

"Noah, I can't promise anything, but I will try to look into the officer you spoke with. Just let me know what time and the date you filed the missing persons report." She stood up to get a pen and notepad from the drawer. She wrote down the information, and Caesar knew who it was that Noah had met with. Officer O'Donnell. He was a shady son of a bitch, and if he had thrown out the report, Caesar wasn't going to let him just get away with it. He had a bad feeling about that guy ever since they met, and if this was something then it only confirmed what he already knew.

They were about to leave when Noah said one final thing, and Caesar knew with those two words it was all on now. There was no chance of dinner or cookies, so he would let his girls know. He likely wouldn't be coming home tonight. Or tomorrow morning. All hell was about to break loose.

"Beth's pregnant," Noah whispered, eyes closed, praying this would make them see just how urgent this was.


	3. Didn't Tell

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

 _Beth could hear her breathing ricocheting off the walls around her, she pulled her legs in tighter and shivered. She felt sick to her stomach, but she wasn't at all hungry. She was worried about what that meant, but it might mean nothing. She didn't know how long she had been here. A day maybe? Or two? A week? She had no clue, but she hoped from the lack of hunger it was just a couple hours. Unfortunately, she only knew that it was dark, she was freezing, and it was getting harder to breathe. She felt like she was in a box that was getting shrinking in size every second._

 _She was scared to move from the spot she was in, but she had to know where she was. She had to get out of there. She had to fight. She wasn't going down gently, and she would find a way to get the hell out of here. She had too many people in her life that loved and needed her, and she refused to die in this hellhole._

 _She looked up, hearing movement, and she positioned herself in a way that would make grabbing her up difficult. She prepared herself as the sound of boots on wood grew closer and closer, making her heart quicken. God, please, whatever happened here don't let anything happen to her baby._

– – –

"I want you to track the GPS on her phone," Carol instructed, speaking to their computer guys. "And I want you to get into all of her social media accounts." She turned to Espinosa. "I need her computer, and her cell phone records as soon as possible. Call me when you have them."

"Already on it," she replied.

"Thank you." She had to get that kid something for all she was doing.

She was having Noah give a description of Beth—what she was wearing, what she looks like, etc. Caesar was going to speak with O'Donnell and demand to why the report of a pregnant young woman wasn't filed, and Carol was going to head to the mall to review the parking lot footage. She was hoping this asshole hadn't tampered with them, but it was more than just a possibility in this day and age. Overriding cameras came more naturally to some people than a smoky eye look.

"Martinez," Carol unlocked her car, "I'm going to the mall to review the footage of that day. Let's hope he hasn't tampered with it. Why don't you meet me there?"

"Sounds good. I'll be there shortly." He hung up and knocked on O'Donnell's front door.

His wife answered. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. I'm looking for your husband."

She looked him over then smiled. "You're Keira's dad."

"Y—yeah, I am. How'd you know my daughter?"

"Our kids go to the same school. I've seen you picking her up. Come inside." She closed the door behind. "Could I get you anything? Coffee? I just made a fresh pot."

"No, thank you."

"Please, just one cup. He's in the shower, so it'll be a few minutes anyway." She led him to the kitchen and poured them each a cup of coffee, and he thanked her. "What brings you here, if I can ask."

"Just work." He heard the shower shut off. "I believe your husband can help me."

"Another day, another homicide." She quivered, set her cup down and excused herself, not wanting to hear about this. She had to sleep at night.

Caesar placed his cup on the table beside him and waited by the stairs, O'Donnell coming down a few minutes later in only jeans, still drying his hair. Caesar greeted him with a dry smile, and O'Donnell returned it, very displeased at the sight of Caesar in his house.

"What are you doing here?" He met Martinez's eyes.

"I just came to ask you a few questions."

"Is this official business, or—?"

"It is. Trust me, I wouldn't make an effort to talk to you otherwise. Have a seat."

"Mind telling me what's going on before you interrogate me in my living room." He folded his arms over his chest, not moving.

"I could always take you out of here in handcuffs," Martinez threatened. "Sit your ass down."

He did as he was instructed and rested his elbows on his knees. "What do you want to know?"

"Why the missing persons report on Beth Greene was thrown out? See, I called my buddy Shepard, and she told me there was never a report filed on Beth Greene. In fact, there was no video evidence that Noah Bridges had even entered the station January 15th, 2015."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because Beth Greene _is_ missing. She hasn't shown up for class in two days, and she's never missed a day, even when she was puking her guts up." His stare made O'Donnell want to squirm, and while he didn't, Caesar could see that want and knew he was in the presence of a dirty cop. "So, I'll ask again: why was the missing persons report on Beth Greene thrown out?"

" _I don't know_ what you're talking about _._ "

"Fine, let's talk about something you _do_ know." He locked eyes with O'Donnell. "You're quite adept at computers. Your teachers gave glowing recommendations about you, and I've heard what you can do. I bet you could easily delete any and all footage of Noah and then fill the missing time with a loop of one of your previous shifts."

"I bet I could, but I wouldn't."

"Then why do I have this?" He showed O'Donnell the pictures taken from the camera across the street of Noah entering and exiting the station. "Do you want to change your story now?"

– – –

Carol had seen what happened with Beth on the fifteenth. All she could make out about the person who kidnapped her was that it was a man, tall and from how easily he grabbed her, strong. Beth didn't appear to weigh much, but still. To lift a fully grown woman up who was fighting you so effortlessly...he had to have worked out.

After viewing the tape, she had gone to the parking lot, trying to place herself in Beth's shoes. The grab had been quick and simple, and there was most likely nothing here that would lead them to her abductor, but there was always that slim chance. She would find something— _anything_ —that told her who had taken Beth. They had no answers as to why she was taken or where she was currently, but if they had a who then the rest would fall into place.

 _Beth paced the length of the car, waiting for Noah impatiently, and she pulled her phone out to text him. She wanted to know how close he was, because she had to use the bathroom. She couldn't hold it anymore, and she would text him to meet her at the food court._

Carol followed the same movements as Beth, pulling out her phone and writing out two sentences. She was pregnant, so she was likely telling him she was going to the bathroom and to meet either in the food court or in their favorite store. It took about a minute to write out the text message, so this man waited until she was done typing it out. Or perhaps he was approaching her. If that's true then he would have been parked nearby. She may not have been paying much attention to the people around her, so he used that to his advantage to sneak up on her. From what hers and Noah's text history, whatever she'd written hadn't been sent.

 _She was about to send it when a hand closed around her mouth and waist. She dropped her phone and struggled, digging her nails into the attacker's arm, and she tried to scream, but there was a cloth over his palm, and all too soon the world went black._

Carol bent down and looked under the cars.

"What the hell is she doing?"

"Her job," Michonne replied. "Now if you're done gawking, you have a job to do as well."

"She ordered us to wait."

Michonne sighed and marched over to Carol, but she stopped when Carol stood up, holding with a glove Beth Greene's smashed cell phone. "Carol."

"I know." She dropped it into an evidence bag. "I found a few small drops of blood, but I don't know who they're from. Honestly, it might not belong to either of them, but it's still worth a shot." She continued, "And there was still the issue of Beth's car. The attacker didn't take it, but it's gone. It was probably stolen. We should put out an APB on it."

"Anything else?" Michonne's tone made her sound like she was a butler who was fed up with her employer.

"His car wasn't in view of any of the cameras, so he must have scooped the place out beforehand. Unfortunately I don't have the time to look over weeks worth of footage to find one man checking out all the cameras, and even if I did...I wouldn't." Unless she had no choice.

"I'll assign someone to do that."

"Good. I have to meet Caesar. I have a feeling he and O'Donnell have had a very enlightening chat."

"You have a lot of "feelings". For the most part, they're pretty damn accurate, but if this time they aren't—"

"I'd rather risk questioning a good cop than not have risked at all."

"That—"

"I hate to be rude, and I hate interrupting you so much, but I do have to go. We'll finish this when I return to the precinct." She walked away and pulled her phone out, deleting the text and calling Martinez.

"Is that you, Williams?"

"Well, it's either me or your mother," she mused.

"Well, my mother has a softer tone."

"Is that right, sweetie?" She dug her keys out of her pockets. "How did it go?"

"It went."

"Meaning?"

"I arrested him." He wasn't in the mood to talk _about_ O'Donnell. He wanted to know where this girl was, and he wouldn't let up with him until he told him.

"You didn't know him. Why do you sound pissed? I thought you had a bad feeling about him."

"I did, but still. It's assholes like him that make us a joke. People are supposed to rely on the police, to feel safe when we're around, and when they turn their back on horrible things for a friend or their own needs... it's bullshit. I don't even want to know how many cases he's intervened with, but I will find out."

"You think he's covering for someone else?"

"Yeah, though it doesn't make him any less guilty. He took an oath and just spat on it." How many people had he put at risk? How many people were dead because of him? And how the hell did he sleep knowing that? Caesar had to take pills to sleep most nights. How the fuck do people do atrocious things and sleep well? He was grateful to never know.

She knew how much it meant to him to weed out dirty cops. They were the reason he joined the force, and she knew how touchy this subject was. She would have to ask Andrea talk to him tonight. He has always been the type to let things fester, and she wouldn't let that happen now. She needed him to be his clearheaded and driven self. "I'll be right over."

"No, just meet me back at the precinct." He hung up.

She slipped her phone into her pocket and got into her car, pulling out. She had a feeling this was more than it seemed. She needed to have Beth's sister come up. They needed to talk.

––

Caesar was in the middle of interrogating O'Donnell, Carol was trying to get a hold of Maggie Greene, and Michonne had some of the others searching the O'Donnell's property. They were all getting nowhere fast. O'Donnell wasn't going to talk, even though he hadn't lawyered up yet. He assumed it would just make him look guilty, but he already looked, smelled and sounded guilty. All that would spare him now was to just confess. Otherwise Caesar would destroy him and any life he may have left.

Carol finally managed to get a hold of Maggie, and from the sounds on the other end of the phone, they were having a party. Noah must not have told Maggie about her sister getting kidnapping. That was odd. Carol broke the news to her, the music stopped and worried voices replaced it. She asked her to try and get a flight out as soon as possible. She needed to talk to her face-to-face, and Maggie was already agreeing. Carol had no words to ease Maggie's panic, so she said simply gave her a reassuring word before she hung up.

"We have her computer," Espinosa informed Carol.

She rose. "Did Noah drop that off himself?"

"Yeah."

She hurried toward the stairs to meet him before he exited the building, and she caught him as he was departing from the building. He turned and looked startled then approached her and asked if everything was all right. She wasn't very active anymore, so she had to take a brief second to catch her breath. Martinez did all the running.

"Why didn't you tell Maggie about Beth being kidnapped?"

"Why—?" He stopped and scanned the street. "I'll tell you, but why don't you let me buy you a cup of coffee first?"

"Please do." Caffeine was the only addiction she would sate these days.

He paid for her usual coffee and bought himself a cup of lemon balm tea to calm his nerves. He hadn't been sleeping, and he just wanted to be still for more than two seconds. Knowing she was out there in the custody of someone who hunted her...set a fire inside of him, and if he had the slightest idea where to look, he wouldn't stop searching until he brought her home.

But he didn't know where to start, and he had bills to pay and classes to attend. Most of the time he couldn't stay more than ten minutes. His mind got the better of him, and he kept wondering if she was alive. If she was being hurt. If she was being... He couldn't handle being around people right now. Honestly, he wondered if that bastard was someone they knew. He wondered if he was watching Noah suffer and squirm. It made his skin crawl, among other things.

"So, why didn't you tell Maggie that Beth, her baby sister, had been kidnapped?" Carol broke his thoughts and took a long drink of her coffee.

He blinked himself to the present and cupped his drink. "To be honest, I don't know Maggie. I don't even know how to contact her."

"How is that possible? I thought you and Beth have been together for two and a half years."

"Two years and four months," he corrected then shook his head. "The thing is...Maggie didn't approve of Beth moving to New York for college. I think their father was sick, or maybe just getting too old to tend to their farm, but uh, Beth really wanted to attend college here. Maggie was going to a local college, and they fought that Beth should too."

"Is her father still alive?"

"Yeah. He sent her a Christmas card." Noah's small smile indicated Mr. Greene had no clue Noah was in the picture. "He's a tough man, and he doesn't need them to baby him. He has his oldest son, Shawn, to help with the farm. Uhh, Maggie's been calling lately though, or so Beth's told me."

"And have you ever met any of her family?"

"No."

"Why not? You've been dating for over two years, you live together and she's carrying your child yet you've never met any of her family. How in the hell is that possible?"

He met her eyes. "Her dad has coddled her most of her life, and she was worried how he'd react to us. The reason we were going down to Georgia for Maggie's birthday was to tell them about us and the baby. She'd made plans to go back sooner, but weather and school intervened and if not that then her nerves."

She leaned back in her chair. "It never bothered you that Beth didn't...see that you were fit enough to meet her family?"

"No." He was telling the truth. "Everyone has issues with their family, and Beth felt bad enough about "hiding me" for the entire city. She always tried to make up for that." He smiled a little at the memories that popped into his head. "She would look at me sometimes, and I knew she felt horrible about the whole thing, especially if we had plans with _my_ parents. She always tried to find ways to let me know I was important to her, that our relationship was important and that one day I would meet her family."

"It seems like she loves you very much." It was written all over his face, and she felt the stress pouring off of him. It was taking all he could to sit there and hold that cup of tea. "And that you love her back just as fiercely."

"Yeah." His throat felt tight. "I do."

"How did you two meet? The real story, not the brief one you told us."

"At college. Uhh...I was fixing their teacher's computer, and Beth and one of her friends were working on something that involved really bad-smelling paint. They were used to it, but it killed me. That's how we started talking. She asked why I looked so grossed out, so I told her and she laughed at me." He picked at the lid. "And then told her friend who also laughed at me."

Carol smiled a little.

"She didn't speak to me after, but she kept looking over her shoulder at me." He remembered it was a sunny day, and it was reflecting off the tables. She was wearing a white blouse, which he thought was strange as they were using bright reds and yellows and greens to paint, and black jeans with worn Converse, her long hair over her shoulder in big, messy curls. She looked beautiful, especially how her expression shifted to embarrassed when he caught her peeking at him. "She met me at the door after class and invited me to some party her friend was throwing. I turned her down, and she just smiled and thanked me."

"Thanked you?"

"She needed an excuse to get out of the party herself. Turns out her friend was only her roommate and she'd yet to actually make a friend."

"So, you were her first friend?"

"Yeah." He inhaled. "We would met in between classes and study together, and eventually her roommate got to be too much, so I let her move in with me. We started to date about a month after." He had that scary movie to thank.

"What happened in a month?" Carol took a long drink from her coffee.

––

 _He unlocked the door and entered a pitch-black apartment. He used the flashlight on his key chain to guide him. It was not the first time Beth had done this, and it wouldn't be the last he was sure of that. He started to enter his room when he saw lights dancing off the door to Beth's room, but he didn't hear anything._

" _Beth?"_

" _Noah!" She came barreling out of the room, practically hugging the walls. "I didn't hear you come home."_

" _I can tell." He looked her over, and while he was used to the shorts, tank top and braid that were her sleepwear, the look of terror wasn't something he expected. "Are you okay?"_

" _Yeah, just...watchin' a movie." She hugged her arms. "Are you goin' to bed?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _Oh." She smiled a little. "Then good night."_

" _Are you sure you're okay? You seem tense."_

 _She exhaled. "It's...a scary movie. Watching it in the dark isn't helpin' at all." She met his eyes. "Would you finish it with me?"_

" _What?"_

" _Please?"_

" _I don't even know what it's about, and it's late. I have class in the morning, and while you can sleep in—" He stopped himself. "How much is left?"_

" _Just half an hour. You can crash in my room, and I'll make you breakfast and do your homework. Please?"_

 _He sighed. "Fine."_

" _Yes!"_

" _You are not doing my homework though."_

" _Good, 'cause your homework is ridiculous."_

" _You're ridiculous."_

" _No, I'm just a pretty blonde and pretty blondes always get what they want," she joked to make him laugh, and she smiled when he did._

 _He smirked at her and set his belongings down inside his room and followed her in to hers, sitting down on her bed and wondering if he could doze off without her noticing. He realized how unlikely that was when she literally curled up against him and wrapped both of her arms around his and pressed play, burying her face near his shoulder._

" _How can you even see?"_

" _I can hear. It's enough." Her voice was muffled by his sleeve._

" _At least turn the lights on."_

" _No!" She stopped him from reaching over and tugging on the chain to flick the light on. "My light glares off the screen, and it ruins the entire movie."_

" _You're not even watching it!"_

" _Well now I have to rewind it because you've interrupted it three times. Yeah, I counted." She leaned over him for the remote._

" _Give me that." He snatched it from her and tried to fast forward through it to see if the end was worth it._

" _Noah, stop!" She tried to wrestle the remote away from him, and they ended up somewhere in the credits and crashed on the floor with half of Beth's blankets and pillows. She pushed herself up and triumphantly claimed the remote, grinning at him like she had won the world, and he just groaned and closed his eyes, wanting to be asleep and comfortable in his bed, not with Beth's knee stabbing into his spleen._

 _Then she looked at him with those big, beautiful blue eyes and just...studied his face. She was quiet, and he didn't know her to be quiet. She always had something to say, or sing or...hum even. She started to smile a little, her lips pulling back but didn't quite make it to the full smile. It was something he'd seen her do a few times, and only now did he know why._

 _She rolled onto her back beside him. "Do you just wanna sleep on the floor?"_

" _Honestly, right now...I could."_

" _You're watchin' the rest of that movie with me tomorrow." She rolled her head to the side to peer at him. "No escapin' your fate, Mr. Bridges."_

" _Since when does sleeping involve so much talking, Ms. Greene?"_

 _She smiled. "Good night."_

" _Good night."_

 _A beat._

" _Noah?" she whispered._

" _Yeah?"_

" _Thank you."_

 _He found her face in the darkness. "For what?"_

" _Everything."_

 _He noticed the tears in her eyes and sat up. "What's wrong?"_

 _She sat up and shook her head. "It's nothin'. I'm sorry." She wiped at the corners of her eyes with the heels of her hands._

" _Don't be sorry, just tell me what's wrong so I can help." He grasped her hand and held it so he could see her face. "Beth, what is it?"_

 _She searched his eyes and swallowed, shaking her head again. "I don't want to ruin all of it."_

" _All of what?"_

" _Us." Her voice was a breath away from inaudible. "You're the only person I've met since movin' here that's decent and genuinely selfless. I didn't want this to happen."_

" _What happened?"_

" _I..." She lowered her eyes. "I like you, Noah. I really do, and I don't...know what to do anymore. When I'm around you and our friends... it's easier, but when we're home alone... it sucks." Her eyes moved to their hands, and she pulled her hand free. "And you already have a girlfriend."_

" _Since when do I have a girlfriend and why didn't I know about her?"_

" _You're always with that girl..." She tried to think of her name. "Tara something."_

 _He laughed. "Wow, you haven't hung out with Tara much, that's obvious."_

" _Why are you laughing?"_

" _Beth, Tara...is gay."_

" _She's gay?"_

" _Very much gay, yes." He chuckled once. "And she's more like my big sister."_

 _She blushed. "Oh, God!"_

" _Do you want to start over?"_

" _No, I think I've said enough." She lifted her eyes. "Can we pretend this conversation didn't happen?"_

" _Yeah."_

 _She chuckled nervously and scratched the back of her neck, trying to think of something to say to change the subject, and all she could think of was going to the bathroom and hoping he left by the time she got back._

" _Um—" She was interrupted by his lips, her eyes widening in shock and she froze. She didn't know what the hell just happened and her brain felt like it had just vanished for the entire time his lips were on hers. It was back now, and her face was on fire._

" _You said to forget the conversation, not what you felt."_

" _What I f—?" She cut off. "So, what was that? Just a your pity? I—"_

" _It was an "I like you too", but I couldn't say it because we forgot the conversation," he interrupted her._

 _She gazed at him. "Oh."_

 _He dropped his gaze for a second, she leaned over and set her hand on his cheek, pulling him closer and their lips met._

– – –

Carol watched Noah leave with a hand over her eyes to block the sun's glare, and she headed inside to take a look at Beth's laptop. She had gotten all she needed on Noah, and even though his alibi checked out, she wanted to make sure he had nothing to do with this. Now she could go after O'Donnell with no regrets.

"Nice to see you started without me."

Caesar glanced at her. "Don't look so disappointed. I didn't get too far." He turned and showed her what happened the second he unlocked it.

"Well, that's interesting." She was smiling.

"And also doesn't help us."

"It does."

"I've only had one cup of decent coffee today, and I just spent most of day talking to a stone wall." He had a headache from hell to top it off. "How does it help?"

She ruffled his hair like he was kid. "It tells us there's something on this computer that leads to the kidnapper."

"Williams."

"Martinez." She pointed to her top drawer where she had medicine for the headache he had. "I'll get you some water."

"Thanks."

Carol could only hope Maggie knew what Beth had on her laptop. No matter how much time passed between them and how their fight grew, they were still sisters and they shared everything. Maggie would know, and even if she didn't, Rosita was going to have some fun today. She had already discovered this asshole was smart enough to install a virus on Beth's computer that could only be activated when it was logged into.

 _What else had he been smart enough to do_ , she wondered.


	4. Shatter Me

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Carol held out an evidence bag that contained a small black beaded bracelet. "So, they found this at the O'Donnell's house."

"And the wife confirmed it wasn't hers?" Caesar guessed.

"Beth was also a fan of bracelets. It matches the one from this picture." She set the bag and picture in front of him. "Only these beads have blood on them."

"Blood? Is it hers?"

"Still waiting on the results." She was tempted to bribe the guy, but she had to save her money for coffee. And food. And bills. Shit, she had bills to pay. She looked over Caesar's weary face. "Hey."

"Hmm?"

"Go home."

"What? No."

"Go home, you extremely tired lug, and get out of my chair."

"No, and your chair has more cushion than mine anyway."

She rolled her eyes. "Get your ass home and sleep. I'll call if anything comes up."

"No, you won't. You'll run off on the first scent of this guy and leave me passed out in bed, peaceful." He frowned. "That's how you got shot, Carol."

"It was a graze, it hardly bled and I'm still alive to correct you about it," she shot back. "And I'll call you when we have something, or if Maggie arrives before the results do. I promise I will."

"I don't believe you for a second."

"Then I'll go home and sleep."

"You couldn't sleep even if you wanted too. You practically shoot up espresso, and you'd never forgive yourself if you slept at a time like this."

She made a face, but he was right. "Then we'll just suffer together."

"When does Maggie's flight get in?"

"Six." She pursed her lips. "We don't have much else to do. Unless you can work with computer."

"Honestly, I can barely work my cellphone." She laughed, and he smirked. "Thought I'd a laugh out of you with that." He ran a hand over his face. "Mmm, it's not too late. Why don't you come home with me? We can get some food, some strong ass coffee."

"I can never say no to coffee."

"Let's go then."

"I don't know."

"Everyone has to eat, and we'll be a phone call away. I'll drag you out of here. Don't think that I won't."

"Fine. Let me get my things."

––

Andrea was about to settle down and read a book for the first time in what felt like years when Caesar and Carol walked in. She looked surprised, and it wasn't just that Caesar had called to inform them that he would be working late, it was the fact that Carol was with him. Willingly, it appeared.

"Oh, don't get up," Carol said the minute Andrea tried to stand up.

"What are you guys doing here?" She exchanged a look between the two of them.

"Should we come back when your lover's not here?" Carol teased.

"Well, he's late anyway."

Caesar sent them both a sharp glare, and they laughed. "I'll put on some coffee."

"Coffee? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Andrea pointed to the clock beside her with her thumb as Carol removed her coat.

"Carol," was all he said.

Andrea turned to her and frowned. "You need sleep."

"No, it's not like that. It's this case." She had a seat. "A twenty-two year old college student is missing, and not only that but she's about three months pregnant. We didn't find anything suspicious in her background check, and we have her sister flying here, but her flight's not due for another...ten hours? I don't want to miss her."

"Ten hours? You should be in bed for, at least, eight of those hours!"

"I can function on two hours."

"Two ho—?" Andrea gaped. "I can't even move on two hours of sleep."

"Different people." She relaxed as best she could into the armchair. "Our only suspect has called in his lawyer, and he's a cop so, of course, we didn't get anything out of him. We don't really have anything on him either."

"Carol, I can tell you're lying to me. I am a lawyer."

"Just wanted to see if you were as sharp as before."

"Always." She smirked. "Why don't I make you two some tea? You can have the coffee later. I can feel the stress you two are under, and it's stressing me out. I'm making you tea." She rose off the couch.

Carol sighed, but didn't argue. There was no point anyway. Andrea would bulldoze them into having tea. "Two sugar cubes, no honey."

"Caesar?"

"Same." He hadn't even begun to make the coffee. He kissed the back of her head. "Thank you."

"Why? You're making it." She handed him the kettle and smiled. "I'll get the sugar. What kind of tea do you want?"

He smirked back at her. "Whiskey."

"Not an option, but I think we have Earl Grey and peppermint."

"Daddy?"

They turned to see Keira sitting on the stairs in her nightgown, her long, un-messy hair telling them she hadn't been sleeping, as she gripped the bars and smiled at them.

"Keira." Andrea set the tea down. "Honey, you're supposed to be in bed."

"I heard Daddy." She came off the stairs and looked over at Carol.

"That's Carol." Caesar filled the kettle with water.

"I remember." She walked over to her.

Carol shifted in her seat, looking over the young girl. Her long black hair fell down her small shoulders but didn't cover her face. She had the same complexion, face shape and eye color of her mom, but the same lips and nose of her father. She was beautiful, and from the way Caesar boasted to anyone but Carol, she was intelligent.

"Hi." She gazed at her.

"Hey."

"Daddy said you couldn't make it."

"I couldn't, but I wanted to try." She lowered herself down on to the floor in front of Keira. "I wanted to see you, and I almost didn't. I'm glad you heard us talking."

"Me too." She smiled.

Carol returned it. "How was your day, sweetie?"

Andrea let them talk and opened two packs of tea, placing them in glass mugs and adding in two sugar cubes in each mug. "Should I warm you two up some dinner?"

"Nah." He filled the mugs with hot water. "I'll put Keira to bed. Give this to Carol."

"Why don't we let Carol put her to bed?" She searched his face. "Do you think that'd be...too much?"

"Yeah," he whispered.

"Maybe one day."

"Maybe." He glanced at them then went over and bent down by his daughter. "Sorry to interrupt, but she has school tomorrow."

"No, it's fine." Carol gave a small smile. "I'll see you later, Keira."

"Say good night." He rose, and Keira gave Carol a hug.

"Good night, Carol."

"Good night, angel." Carol released her and stood up as Caesar took Keira back to her room. Carol gripped her locket, and Andrea handed her a cup of tea. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She returned to her seat.

Five minutes later, Caesar rejoined them and sat by his wife on the couch, taking the blanket from the back of it and wrapping it around them. He let his tea cool a bit before he drank from it, and it was that moment when Carol decided to speak.

"When are the two of you going to stop treating me like I'm a wounded bird?"

He choked.

Andrea lifted her eyes from the pages of her book. "Sorry?"

"I'm not stupid, and I can read lips. I know what you said in the kitchen."

"We didn't—"

"It's fine. I know I haven't been the easiest friend to have, but you need to let me worry about myself. You two have a child and house and cat to take care of along with each other, so don't add me to that list, okay?"

"Never," Caesar said once he cleared his throat and stopped choking. "You're in this family as much as we are."

She smiled. "Then treat me like I'm an adult—not a child, not a broken, small thing."

"We just weren't sure if you'd be comfortable putting her to bed," Andrea explained. "I wanted to let you. I just didn't want to...awaken anything bad."

"My subconscious does that all on its own and needs no outside help."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because talking won't change what happened. It won't make me feel better, and it won't make you feel better either. It doesn't help, no matter what anyone tells you, and I refuse to write it down, to have it in a book in my house at all times. It'd be like looking in a mirror with a crack down the middle... It'd all I'd think about. It'd would eat at me...until—" She swallowed hard. "And do not say I'm bottling it up. I'm not."

"I know." Caesar set his mug down. "I think this is the most we've talked about it...ever."

"It is. Let's stop now."

"We...were going to visit the graves on Saturday," Andrea informed her. "It's his birthday, and we wanted to bring flowers. Would you like to join us?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't need to think twice about visiting their graves when the thought never leaves my mind." Her grip tightened on her mug. "We're done talking about this. I'm sorry, but please don't bring this up again."

"Fine."

"I'm going to head back to the station. I'll see you in the morning." She set the mug down and was out the door before Caesar could untangle himself.

"At least we got somewhere." Andrea cleared her throat. "For a second."

"She doesn't bottle it up. She...uses it as a shield to keep the world away." He pressed his lips together then released an exasperated sigh. "She's the best damn detective, and she goes above and beyond for the victims, but the minute they want to thank her, she vanishes. She wants nothing to do with praise, because the only person in the entire world she wants to hear praise from is gone. She feels like she doesn't deserve it, and it'd do her a world of good to hear it just once. Maybe she could... Maybe she could forgive herself."

"How do you forgive yourself when all you do is think you're to blame?" Andrea's voice was a whisper. "She doesn't think of the killer as responsible, she sees herself as the killer."

"The Captain wants her to be evaluated," he confessed. "She wanted to do it a few years ago, but there was never time. There's time now, and I agree with Michonne. It's for her own good, and she hasn't thought about that in twelve years so we have to for her."

"When?"

"Immediately after we find Beth Greene." He watched the door, as if she was still standing there. "I swore I'd always look after her, and I am going to, even if she hates me for it."

She gripped his hand. "She'll forgive you, don't worry about that."

"Let's hope."

Outside the house, Carol's hands balled into fists and she chuckled bitterly to herself. She knew— _she knew_ —sooner or later Michonne would push, and it would seem she would have to push back. She was _not_ going to be evaluated by some random professional who thinks they can solve all of her problems. She would not sit in a room and let someone judge her by her tone, what she says and her body language. Sorry, Captain, even if this did happen, she would fake her way through it, just like the first time.

It was better this way. It had to be.

– – –

Ceasar handed Maggie a napkin to help wipe up the spilled coffee on the table. Her hands were shaking so badly, and Carol felt for the young woman. Her dark, messy hair was down her shoulders, her eyes red and tears stained her cheeks. She most likely had cried herself to sleep. She was still in wrinkled clothes. They caught her at a bad time, but when was it a good time to catch anyone whose sister had been kidnapped?

"Thank you for coming so soon," Carol started.

"Of course." Maggie swallowed and met her eyes. "What happened? Do you know what happened?" She looked from Williams to Martinez. "Is she alive?"

"We don't know," Caesar honestly replied. "What we do know is she was targeted and abducted from the parking garage at the mall by a man, who we have yet to identify." O'Donnell was their lead suspect, but he didn't fit the physical profile. Besides he had an airtight alibi. He could have had a partner, though.

"T—targeted?" Maggie's eyes filled with tears, and she ran a hand down her jaw. "How—how do you know she was targeted?"

"Because this man knew where she'd be," Carol explained. "He'd staked out the mall, found the best angles to hide, and he didn't waste a second getting over to her or getting her out of the garage. We've looked over most of the footage, and we can assume he put her in the trunk of his car. There were no images of her in the backseat of any car, and the trunk is the most ideal...place for concealing a body."

Tears fell from her eyes, and she nodded. "Anythin' else?"

"He had inside help," Caesar clenched his jaw then took a seat. "He had an officer tamper with cameras and also had a report on Beth being missing thrown out."

"Wait..." Maggie wiped her eyes. "A cop? He had a cop's help?"

"We assure this man will no longer be wel—"

"No, no." Maggie scooted to the edge of her seat. "This helps. I... I know who took Beth."

Carol and Caesar exchanged glances before asking if she was positive she knew who took her sister. She might just be hoping this man took her, but Maggie was adamant. She began to tell them why she thought that when there was a knock on her hotel door.

"Excuse me." She answered it and found the young man Beth had e-mailed her about once. Noah. She'd attached a picture of them. She hadn't expected them to stay in touch, but she was grateful someone had been by Beth's side through this. After the e-mail Maggie responded with, Beth stopped sending e-mails to her. Shawn occasionally got one. "Noah?"

"Maggie?" He wasn't entirely sure. The pictures of her Beth had were pretty old, but who else would Carol and Caesar meet this early? And they had the same eyes. Not just green, but gentle and fierce, even if they were swollen with tears.

"What are you doing here?" Martinez looked confused.

"I called him." Carol motioned for him to enter. "I just thought you should meet Maggie, and I have a few more questions for you."

They joined them and had a seat, Noah sat on the bed as there were no seats left, and Maggie grabbed a tissue to blow her nose into before telling them about Gorman. She crossed her legs and hugged her arms, trying to keep herself together enough to tell them about that son of a bitch.

"Officer Tom Gorman. That's his name—the man who took her. I'm not entirely sure when this all started, but I do know when Beth caught him."

"Caught him doing what?" Carol inquired. "Stalking her?"

She nodded. "She was getting books in the library about five years ago. Um, then she went to the store for groceries, and she noticed this guy followin' her. He started to get real close to her, but luckily her friends had found her and they left together. More and more she kept seein' him—in the parking lot of her high school, in the gym when she went to school games, even at parties she went to."

"Five years." Carol wondered why the hell he didn't take her sooner. Five years. That was a ridiculously long time to stalk someone. Maybe that's why he decided to act instead of watch.

"Why didn't you report it?" Martinez inquired.

"And say what?" Maggie looked furious. "They didn't help us! He hadn't done enough for them to do anythin'."

"Is that why Beth left Georgia?" Carol asked.

"Partly, yeah. She made it through her senior year with him followin' her around, and luckily he never came to the farm. Daddy would have killed him if he had seen him on the property." _She_ would have killed him. "I wanted her to stay, just...to help with Daddy when she could. He's gettin' older, and it's gettin' harder for him to work the farm. I tried to push Beth into going to a local college, into stayin', but...we only ended up fightin' every day until she left. I didn't know it at the time, but Shawn wasn't goin' to college. He was gonna take over the farm."

"She forgave you for that," Noah blurted.

She turned to him. "She did?"

"Yeah. She didn't want to tell you, but she wasn't mad at you. She wanted to come and see you. She had plans to come for your birthday."

"My birthday?" Maggie snufled. "Really?"

"Yeah. She and... She was really excited about it. She'd missed you so much."

Her lips trembled as fresh tears rose in her eyes. "I'm not mad that she left. I _was never mad_ that she left. I just wanted to make sure she was ready. I just wanted her to be safe."

"She was," Noah assured her. "She's strong. She knew it she could do...anything she put her mind to, because of you and your family. You don't know what you mean to her, what you taught her without meaning to, and I know...she'll fight. She'll find a way back."

"Excuse me." Maggie hurried to the bathroom before she broke down entirely.

Carol looked at Noah. "Go."

"Go where?"

"To Maggie. She's going to be your family, and she needs you."

He nodded and went to Maggie.

"So we have a suspect." Martinez drank his coffee.

"And a motive." She drank from her cup and sat back. "I'm going to need stronger coffee."

"Not surprising."

"And a bagel."

"You eat bagels?"

"Uh-huh." She rose and checked on Noah and Maggie, having a few more questions, and they had time to get to know each other when Beth was found. The longer she was missing, the more chance there was of something going wrong and Beth ending up dead at the hands of this Gorman. Although he may do everything in his power to keep her alive. She's obviously the object of his desire, but how would he feel when he learned that object was carrying someone else's child? Carol didn't want to find out.

– – –

"I found the connection." Martinez's grinned proudly at his partner.

"And I found the cream cheese." She smirked. "They went to school together."

"How did you know?"

"I can kind of read backwards and the paper is see-through at that angle in this lightening. Your handwriting has improved." She smiled. "What else did you learn?"

"He has a decent record, a decent cop, and he and O'Donnell have been friends all their lives. I called Gorman's mother, and she had nice things to say about both of them. She practically raised O'Donnell."

"You can't turn on the boy of the woman who raised you."

He nodded. "About fifteen years ago O'Donnell moved here for a "fresh start" and joined the academy. He's never gotten any higher than he has now."

"Not so surprising."

"Gorman followed O'Donnell the second Beth booked her flight. He got tired of just looking, so he took her, and he knew his old buddy would cover for him."

"We're missing something." Carol stood up. "If he was in Georgia all that time just...existing, what made him snap and stalk Beth? Why Beth? What is so special about this girl? She's not that amazing, not extremely intelligent, not extraordinarily beautiful, not...really someone you'd waste five years of your life stalking so why take her?"

"Maybe she looked like someone," Caesar guessed. "What does Gorman's mother look like?"

"Hang on." Carol pulled it up and a small picture appeared. There were no similarities between Beth Greene and Sue Gorman. She had brown hair, blue eyes and tan skin whereas Beth had blonde hair, green eyes and pale skin. Sue had dimples from the look of this picture, and from the many they'd seen, Beth did not. "And he's never been married."

"An old girlfriend perhaps?"

"Do you want to pay O'Donnell a visit? Or should I?"

"Be my guest." He didn't want to sit in a room with that asshole. "I'll go talk to Rosita, see how far she's gotten into that laptop."

They went separate ways, Caesar found Rosita down the hall having a cup of coffee and working on something, and Carol made her way down to where O'Donnell was being held. She hoped he didn't feel the need to have his lawyer present. At this point, with the bloody beaded bracelet and connection to Gorman, there was no chance of him ever recovering from this. Not easily. They just needed probable cause enough to get a search warrant.

Carol peered in on him as he sat in the cell, rubbing his palms together, and she stepped out into his sight. "O'Donnell."

"What now? Come to charge me? Or can I leave?"

"No, I want to talk." She gestured to have the door unlocked, and she entered the cell with him. "Would you talk to me?"

"No."

"How can you be so frigid?" She kept eye contact. "You took an oath to protect this city and everyone in it. I know that doesn't mean nothing to you. I know that you're not at all thrilled to be Gorman's bitch." A muscle in his jaw jumped, and he scoffed. "Why would you defend this man?"

He said nothing, his eyes burning into hers as if he could make her back down.

"I get it. Loyalty is the most important asset in the entire world, but right now, your loyalty is to your badge, to your brothers and sisters who put their lives on the line for you." She searched his eyes. "To your wife and child who want to believe you're a good man, so prove to them you are and help us."

Still nothing, but she waited. Waited for him to see Gorman wasn't worth it, waited for him to realize how asinine he was being, waited for his conscious to show up.

"You won't even try to be a good man for your family?" She scoffed at him, utterly disgusted. "Coward." She stood up and approached the bars, stopping short of leaving, and she turned back to him.

He looked up as she neared and flinched when she grabbed the front of his shirt in her fist. "What the he—?!"

"I don't care who you _think_ you're protecting," Carol hissed, shoving a sonogram in his face that she had gotten from Noah. He had been holding onto it like it was a lifeline. _"This_ is who you're leaving unguarded and exposed. This already vulnerable, unborn baby is now edging closer and closer to death, because I have a feeling Gorman _does not want_ Beth plus one. And my feelings are almost always right, so if you won't do this for your family or the people you're meant to protect or even your work family then do it for this innocent unborn child."

He swallowed with some difficulty that had nothing to do with his shirt digging into his neck.

"We all have stains on us, but this child is a clean slate. Do you really want the blood of something so pure and weak and small on your hands?"

Nothing.

She released him and shook her head. "One day, you're going to wake up and realize this decision will cause everyone you love to loathe you." She headed to the door, leaving the sonogram beside him. She was halfway down the hall, her fists clenching and loosening, and she wanted to beat sense into him. She couldn't stand people like him. It wasn't her place to deal out justice. He'd get his one day. And she had to find Beth. Beth was the most important person right now. Perhaps Caesar had gotten somewhere.

Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket, finding the results of the blood on the beaded bracelet. She was only slightly surprised at the results, and she called Caesar to tell him.

"What do you want to know?"

She lowered the phone at the sound of his voice. "Excuse me?"

"What do you want to know?"

She turned on her heel and returned to his cell. She wasn't going to waste anymore time. "You can start by telling me why Beth Greene."

He lifted his head, his fingers on the sonogram, and he nodded.


	5. Jessie Anderson

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

"There was a girl in college, Jessie. Uh, Jessie Anderson. She and Gorman met in a class they had together, and they started to date a few weeks later. They uh, were together for years. She was deeply in love with him, and him with her. They were even considering marriage. We were in college, and they were considering marriage." He shook his head, but seemed like he had been happy for them. "I thought it was a crazy, but whatever made them happy was fine with me, and they were truly happy about this wedding. They had planned it all out for June..."

"What happened before June, O'Donnell? I know they didn't get married."

He rubbed his jaw. "In mid-April, it was raining really bad. You couldn't even see outside it was coming down so hard. There was no power in the house, so Gorman and I went to help Mo—Sue out. We had gotten there before the storm really hit, found candles and flashlights in case we couldn't turn the electric back on, and Tom had been talking to Jessie on the phone for an hour. They were always talking or texting. It was sickening but cute. I'd never seen him that happy."

She nodded him on.

"Well, we were all having a good time, drinking coffee, talking, and we went to bed pretty late. It was about two in the morning, and the rain was dying down by that time." He cleared his throat. "We got up at noon, and we...were met by a cop. They had...uh, found Jessie's car. That idiot had been on the road that night. I don't know why the hell she thought it was a good idea to drive in that. Gorman told her to stay in. I don't... I've _never_ understood why she would be driving in that weather."

"She wrecked."

He nodded. "Her car was wrapped around a tree..." His eyes held a far away look and were glossy with tears. "She was dead on arrival."

She sighed softly. "What happened with Gorman? How was his reaction?"

"He died that day too." He rubbed his palms together. "He...carried her around with him everywhere he went. Her death just...weighed him down. He changed entirely overnight, and I barely recognized him. I can't really see my old friend in him now." Tears brimmed in his eyes. "He looked like death every day, and he hated that he was alive. He hated that she was gone, and he wanted to be gone and dead too. He—he just didn't have it in him to kill himself. For a long time, I feared he'd come to me and ask me to put an end to his existence. I always wanted to leave when he came over to talk to me or called me, because I couldn't stand to hear those words come out of his mouth."

She studied his face.

"He's my brother, and his mom was practically my mother. I knew how much his behavior hurt me, and I knew how much it had to hurt her. She loved Jessie, so she took her death hard and when Tom..." He briefly paused. "She just couldn't handle it. She asked me to look after him, and I promised I would."

"But she's not dead, so what did she do?"

"She put herself into a retirement home, and she paid for Gorman to get therapy, to try and work through the pain, to be able to live life again, and...it started to work. It took years, but he was coming around. He joined the force and regularly visited Jessie's grave and even tried to date."

"So, he just woke up one day and decided to stalk a young girl?"

"No." He glared. "Not exactly."

"Tell me how it he got fixated on this young woman then."

"He had a...setback."

"Really? That's what you're going to call kidnapping a pregnant twenty-two year old? A setback? That is one hell of an understatement."

"He fucked up, I know, but he's not a bad guy. He's just...struggling."

"How blind are you? He's not a bad guy? He's struggling? I've struggled, but you don't see me kidnapping people to make up for my losses! I just accept them and try to move on! You don't take someone from anyone's life to try and get over your problems! Don't try and water down his actions! You know he's wrong, otherwise you wouldn't be talking to me!"

His eyes narrowed at her.

"I can guess how this tale ends. He randomly saw Beth on the street, saw Jessie in her and decided she was his? And you figured why the hell shouldn't it be like that? I mean, she's just _one_ young woman, so what does it matter? It's just one, and he's been struggling for so long." She rose off the bench she had been sitting on and glowered down at him. "You aren't even worth insulting. I just hope your wife and child find better."

He lunged toward her, but she didn't even flinch. "Fuck you!"

She leaned toward him. "You don't scare me, O'Donnell. Your bite and bark are nothing, just like you. For your sake, you'd better hope we find Beth Greene alive, or your entire life will crumble around you."

"That's your threat?" He scoffed.

"That's my promise." Her normally warm and beautiful eyes were icy and full of disgust. "Start praying."

– – –

Carol joined Rosita and Caesar, setting her phone down on her desk. "What'd you find?"

"Tom Gorman," Caesar replied, gesturing the the screen. "Beth was trying to get a restraining order on him."

"Really?" Carol looked over the screenshots of their e-mails. "Why did she do it like this?"

"He was hacking into her account and deleting the many, _many_ messages he sent her," Rosita explained. "I found these on her flash drive. Four of them to be correct. She didn't want to lose the e-mails again. Apparently when she was in Georgia, she had kept all of the e-mails in a folder, but when she tried to make a case for the restraining order, they had all been deleted, and he left a message in her drafts. That message was sent after she got home from the station and was deleted shortly after she read it as well. And according to her journal, she thought she'd seen him around campus a few times about two months ago then the e-mails started again. She'd written down the message he left her in the e-mail as best as she could from memory. And can I say that this son of a bitch should be flogged and executed?"

Ceasar handed Carol the journal and pointed out the section for her; Carol looked over Beth's rendition of what Gorman had written that pissed Espinosa off so much, and she clenched her jaw. To make it worse, this was only half of the message, and the rest was even worse according to the journal. Carol could tell Beth was scared when she wrote this. Her handwriting was off, not as curved or even like the previous pages, and there were tear stains that blurred the lines.

"She was fifteen years old when he sent her that," she informed Carol.

"So he was following Beth?" She tossed the journal down on the desk.

"Yeah, pretty much everywhere she went." Ceasar scrolled through the many screenshots. "He was even at her church a couple weeks ago."

"Then he would have to know she's pregnant. If he tracked her every move, he would see her at her appointments, and he would have seen her shopping for baby stuff. Noah told us that Beth practically lived in that baby store on the corner by their apartment."

"He could think her sister is pregnant, or a friend." Caesar was trying to come up with a suitable excuse, because he didn't like what suggestions were popping up in his mind. "Or someone in Noah's family."

"Or he knows, and he's going to take the matter into his own hands." Rosita shifted her weight. "A horrific, old-fashioned abortion."

"Assuming that's true, he'd need tools and medicine. He wouldn't risk harming Beth."

"I'm on it." Rosita went to her computer.

"He might have connections at the hospital through O'Donnell's wife," Carol murmured. "In case he doesn't, look into any recent hospital, abortion clinic and pharmacy thief."

"Does he have any family in town?" Caesar turned in his chair to her. "An uncle or cousin?"

"He has two cousins and a step-uncle—if that's what you'd call him."

"Do any of them have any property? Does he?"

"He doesn't, and neither do they." She then added, "Wait, his cousin _had_ a cabin. He sold it."

"What's the address?" She told them then answered Carol's request, which made her stomach knot up, and Carol glanced over the screen. "Let's hurry, Caesar."

– – –

Beth woke up to a bright light shining on her face, and she felt disoriented. She pushed herself up, feeling her hair fall down her shoulders, no longer in the ponytail it was in, and she opened her eyes, her vision momentarily blurry. She was in a bedroom she'd never seen before, and she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.

She then noticed her blouse and jeans were in a pile by the door, along with her underwear and bra. She tossed the blanket around her off and scrambled back, breathing heavily, but she was still fully clothed, only now in a white dress. It had flowers sewn into the hem and lace on the neckline. It would be pretty if it wasn't from her kidnapper who had to strip her bare to put this on. She ran her hands through her hair and felt her panic choke her and she realized her hair smelled like cherries. He had bathed her!

She smelled her arm and the cherry scent was there. Oh God. Did he only bathe her? Did he touch her? Rape her? No. No. God, please no. Please, he didn't. She pushed her hands through her hair, trying to calm herself as tears rose up in her yes. No, no, no, no, no. She would know. She would just be able to feel that, right? It would hurt, right? She would...hurt? Oh, God, the baby.

She slipped off the bed she had been lying on and clutching her stomach, heaving into the corner of the room, almost falling onto her knees. She gasped, choking on the taste, and she gripped the wall, trying to steady herself. She needed to figure this out. What exactly happened that she could make out from her memories and what her body told her. She needed to calm down. She was already in a stressful situation, and she didn't need to add more stress to her body. It was bad for the baby.

Evening her breathing, she pushed off the wall and stumbled back to another, her palms coming against a smooth, cold wall. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, swallowing hard. She needed to remember as much as she could. She felt dizzy, but not drugged. She honestly didn't remember him at all. She was scraping the back of her memory, but she didn't remember when he came to get her, just that he did, and now here she was. Hell, she had no freaking idea when he took her. She could barely remember leaving for the mall.

She reached down and touched her upper thighs, but it didn't hurt. She didn't know if that meant anything, but she hoped it meant he hadn't done anything to her. She scanned the room and realized only then there was no door. She spun around, trying to see that she was wrong. There had to be a door, but it was just four solid walls.

No. **No.** "No!" She screamed. "God—somebody help! Somebody, please! Help me!" She screamed as loud as she could, but her words just came back to her. She wasn't sure where she was, so for all she knew she was in a soundproof basement in the middle of nowhere. She had to try. She had to do something. If she couldn't try and break out the door to this room, she would scream until her throat was raw and then scream more. It might get someone's attention, even if it was his. He might reveal something about this place if she bothered him enough.

"HELP! SOMEBODY, PLEASE! _HELP!_ "

" _You can stop that now_ ," a _voice—his_ voice—spoke to her through a speaker, though she didn't see one.

She ran her eyes over the room and spotted the three cameras that were on her, three red blinking lights that recorded her every move, and she sent a glare to them. "What the hell do you want?!" She walked over to the cameras. "Let me go!"

"Calm down. You shouldn't stress yourself, not in your condition."

"My condition?"

"It'll be better in the morning. It's always better in the morning."

"Hey, wait! You can't leave me in here!"

"I'll see you in the morning, my darling."

"Hey!"

The lights in the room shut off, Beth turned her back to the wall with the cameras and backed up, lowering herself down onto the floor and pulling her legs in tight. She couldn't see anything in the room, just those glaring red lights that blinked at her, and she didn't want to see those. She wouldn't see those, and that bastard wouldn't see her. Not until he was in a court room, paying for what he was doing.

––

There was a _click_ , _click_ , _click_ sound, Beth's head fell and jolted her awake, and she inhaled, momentarily thinking it was Noah, adjusting the fan by the head of her bed, but it wasn't. She shot up and saw the room had changed. Her vomit had been cleaned, there was a table with fresh fruit, egg whites and dry toast with orange juice. She narrowed her eyes at the display and stepped back once. She didn't like that at all. Why would he do this? How could he have done this? She hadn't moved rooms, and she hadn't heard him cleaning or moving anything. What the hell was he giving her?

She looked over her arms and felt her neck for any needle marks, but there weren't any. She noticed her old clothes were gone, and she turned to the cameras. "What do you want from me? I'm not some doll you take off the shelf and play with! I'm not gonna just sit here! You can't make me!"

"Why don't you eat something?"

"Yeah, let me get right on that."

"Jessie, eat something. A piece of toast, some fruit, doesn't matter. Just eat."

"Hell. No. And my name is Beth!"

There was a long silence, she narrowed her eyes, and he simply requested, "Turn around."

"What?"

"Turn around."

She reluctantly turned on her heel and saw a door. That wasn't there last night. That wasn't there. There was no way that was there. She had looked. What the hell was going on? Doors don't appear and disappear at random. Not like this. Besides she would remember a door like that. It was teal with white flowers painted over it. Where did this pretty door lead? It could be a trap, or it could be one step closer to getting the hell out of there. She felt she had no choice. She doubted he was going to let her stay in that room any longer.

She walked over to the door and set her hand on it, pausing briefly to glance at the cameras. They were trained on her, but he hadn't said anything, so she pulled the door open. "Oh, God, please no!" she screamed. " _Please, don't do this!_ "

– – –

Carol removed her sunglasses and sighed at the sight of the cabin that Beth Greene and Tom Gorman could not have been at. She looked at Ceasar, seeing the anger in his eyes at not finding her, and she thought for a second, letting all of the information they had soak in. It was nice and silence out there, so there were no sounds to distract her, and she began to piece it together. There was something they weren't seeing.

Ceasar was about to tell Carol they should head back when he noticed she wasn't there. Physically, yes, she was right beside him, but her mind was lost in deep thought. Either she was desperately trying to find a clue they had missed, or she knew something he didn't and was about to crack the case wide open. He didn't know, but he hoped she had one of them. At this point, he didn't give a shit which one. They needed anything they could get.

"Jessie..."

"Hmm?"

"Jessie Anderson," Carol murmured and pulled her phone out, calling Espinosa. "Rosita?"

"Yeah?"

"Jessie Anderson. What can you tell me about her?"

"What can't I tell you about her?" She exhaled. "What do you want to know about her?"

"Did she own any property in New York? Or have any family here?"

She was quiet for a second then answered. "She has a sister here, Brenda. And Brenda seems to have—wait a second."

"What?"

"Huh, Jessie's sister is married to O'Donnell."

"Really? That's very interesting."

"She has a house," Rosita informed them.

"Caesar, drive." Carol pulled the car door open as Rosita told her the location of the house, and Caesar started the car.

––

Beth rocked herself back and forth in the corner of the dark room, shaking, rubbing her arms, feeling the cold seeping through her now torn dress. She could still hear the screams, ear piercing and blood curding. She couldn't believe it was true. She couldn't think it was true, but it was all she could think about. The screams. The terror. The blood. The dark. It was so cold.

She sniffed, wiping her nose on her hand, and she wondered how long she had been in that room. It felt like years. How long had _they_ been in that room? He had hurt them so badly, and now they were gone. She was all alone in the world. Everybody she loved was dead, or believed _she_ was dead. Even if she got out, there would be nobody waiting for her.

God. Because of her, they were all dead, and they didn't get to go peacefully in the night surrounded by family either. They were tortured for hours, for pleasure, and then finally he let them die. All because he didn't want anybody to come between the two of them. All because she was just something he desired.

If he thought for a second she bought any of that, he was wrong. Being trapped in the dark, hearing Maggie and Shawn and Daddy and Ma and Noah screaming in agony...was the worst mental torture that she'd ever had to endure, but it wasn't real. She would know if it was real. She would feel it if they were gone. They meant too much to her for her to not feel them leaving this world. She didn't know how he managed to make it sound so realistic, but she knew it wasn't real. It couldn't be real, so it wasn't. It just wasn't real. They were alive and safe. It was just some sick joke. Maybe he got the screams from the haunted house on Halloween where they'd try and terrorize each other. That had to be it. There was no other explanation that made sense, because they were alive. They had to be. God, please let them be alive.

She heard that clicking sound again and lifted her head, a ray of light spilling into the room, and she saw him holding the flashlight. She didn't move as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. She wanted to hurt him like he had just hurt her. She wanted to lock him into a dark room where he'd be forced to listen to the sounds of screaming over and over and over again, forced to bang his hands on the walls until his palms were bloody to try and escape. She wanted him to scream and cry and claw until he curled into a tight ball, covering his ears and sobbing; but covering his ears wouldn't help, because the screams were playing in his head. Over and over and over. Perhaps even he would tear his clothes and try to clog his ears with the cloth.

He shined the light on her face, seeing her red, puffy eyes, the tear stains and the rip up the side of her dress. He saw she hadn't touched her food either, and he frowned. He knelt down in front of her and slowly slid his finger across her cheek to her ear, wiping the tear that was falling away with his thumb, and he just watched her, wiping the other cheek.

"I'm so sorry."

She studied his eyes silently, loosening her grip on herself.

"I'll keep you safe this time. I finally know how, and it'll be fine. We'll always be together." He leaned down and kissed her, Beth just let him, her fingers on his arm, and he rested his forehead on hers. "I've missed you, Jessie. So many times I've lost you, but never again."

She gave a barely noticeable nod and gripped his arm tightly.

"I'll be better this time, but you have to be better too. We'll be better together." He kissed her again, Beth tilted her head and leaned forward to kiss him back, needing to be closer to him. He stroked her cheek, and she moved her hand from his arm to the flashlight he set on the floor.

She grunted as she bashed the flashlight into the side of his face, he fell over, crying out in pain and touching the blood on his temple, and she ran out of the room, holding tight to the flashlight. She scanned the hall with the light and tried to find her way out. This place was a maze. Every room looked exactly same, and it smelled of rust and blood and rot.

The light as her guide, she ran down the hall and looked for a window, for a door that might take her outside and away from this nightmare, but there weren't any. She heard him behind her, but she didn't know how far behind, so she bolted down the hall, turning off the flashlight so she didn't give away her position.

His boots were loud and echoed off the walls whereas her worn Converse barely made a sound. She couldn't tell if he was gaining on her, or if it was just the echoing, but she needed to get out of the hall. He knew this place by heart, he had to, and she was just stumbling around blindly. If he thought she made it outside, he might guide her to the exit. Or he might lock this whole place down, because he knows there's no way in hell she made it out on her own. Either way she needed to hide and wait and think of what her next move was going to be. She wasn't going to wait around to be killed like every dumb blonde in horror films. Screw that.

She stopped moving and listened, panting as softly as she could manage, and she tried to make out his location from the echo. Otis used to hunt and track animals, and sometimes he'd show her a trick or two, and she was really good at listening for animals. It'd been so long. She wasn't sure where he was, but she knew he wasn't in the hall with her.

Taking a risk, she flicked on the light and searched for a door, seeing one at the end of the hall. She hurried to it and pulled the door open. The flashlight fell from her, rolling sideways until it was stopped by a hand, and it took everything she had not to scream.

Inside the room that was a little bit bigger than a closet were bodies. Bodies of blonde women just like her, glassy eyes staring at her, mouths open as if they were still screaming as he took their lives, blood splattering the walls and their pale, pale skin. The room stank of blood, rot, meat and death, and Beth could feel her stomach churning. Surprisingly their rotting flesh hadn't attracted any bugs, so he must tend to them.

"Jessie!"

She jumped and set a hand on her heart, hearing him only a few feet away, and she pulled the door shut, grabbing the flashlight. She knew there was only one way of him not finding her, and as much as she hated it, she had to do whatever she could to stay alive.

She climbed into the bodies, whimpering softly at the feel of them, and she moved them around to cover herself, hiding the flashlight by her hip. The women around here were all in the same white dress as she was, their hair done the same as hers, and she tried not to cry for them. She pulled two bodies over herself, feeling their blood seep through her shoes and dress, feeling the sticky, cold blood drip onto her face, and she realized one of bodies...was fresh.

The door flew open, a light ran over the bodies, and she stayed perfectly still, holding her breath. She could hear his frantic breathing, and he lingered, scrutinizing the room, wanting to make sure they were all still right where he left them before he moved on.

She released short, shaky breaths then pushed the bodies off as gently as possible. She climbed down, blood all over her, the scent of death and rot filling her nose and tears stung in her eyes. She waited, wiping the blood from her shoulder but only smearing it down her arm, and she opened the door slowly.

Gorman grabbed her wrist and yanked her out of the room, the flashlight flying into the wall from his force and breaking, and he wrapped an arm around her neck, choking her. She dig at his forearm, kicking to get free, and she clawed at his face, black spots littering her vision, and the darkness came.

––

The house Brenda owned was large and worn down. It was soon to be condemned by the look of it. It was a shit house in the middle of nowhere. It was also a perfect place to take a young woman to brutalize and attempt to brainwash her.

"Caesar." Carol nodded her chin toward the car that was hidden partly underneath a tarp.

They approached the vehicle, Caesar pulled back the tarp and the plate and make told them the car belonged to Tom Gorman. Carol pulled her gun out from its holster on her hip and carefully climbed the stairs, and Caesar followed behind her. She knocked to those inside know who was there, calling, "NYPD, open up!" She repeated it once more, knocking a little harder, but no one answered, no curtains moved, and there were no sounds coming from behind the door, so it appeared the first floor was either empty or he was hiding from them.

"Why don't you go around the back?" Carol suggested. "If he's keeping her, it's most likely in the basement, but there's still a chance he may have her on the main floor or upstairs. Either way, one of us will have to be a distraction."

"And you've decided it's going to be you?"

"We don't know where he is, and we need to do whatever we can that improve Beth's odds of surviving. We can't wait for backup, so it's just the two of us, and we need to do this now. So either you're with me, or you're going to get someone killed by arguing with me."

He repressed a groan. "Be careful."

"Aren't I always?"

He didn't have time to explain just how not careful she was, so he just glared and hurried around to the back of the house, finding a locked cellar door and a nailed shut back door. He looked around and saw a broken window that had also been covered and nailed shut, but sloppily so. He stood on some crates and pulled the piece of wood off, dropping it and climbing inside.

The house was old, the wood rotting, and he wasn't sure how safe it was to walk across the kitchen. The house was once very pretty and well-taken care of, he was sure. There was once beautiful purple floral wallpaper and tilted floors that weren't covered with grime and stains of what he didn't want to know. It reminded him of his grandmother's house to be honest, so it was probably given to Brenda in a will. She clearly did not want it, so she left it to fall pieces instead of taking time to sell it. Or perhaps O'Donnell told her he would fix it up and sell it himself. That wouldn't be a surprise.

He heeded his footing and checked the door nearest to him, discovering the pantry, and he moved to the next, hearing the floorboards creak and feeling them give as he entered the hall, and he saw a maze of doors before him. He spotted the one that surely lead to the basement and approached it. He gently nudged the door open and saw a pit of blackness below. He pulled off the flashlight from his keys that Keira had given to him and used it to make his way down into the darkness.

Carol scanned the living room and den, seeing these two rooms were well kept and even had a home-y feel to it. She saw pictures of Jessie lining the walls on her way to entering the first bedroom, and she found the walls plastered with pictures of young women, all with a bright red X marked over their faces. Well, there was one that didn't have an X and that was in a frame. It was of Beth.

She ran her flashlight over the wall of pictures, counting about different faces and sighing. There were over a dozen women on this wall, and judging from the condition of the photos, these women had been taken and killed over the past five or six years. They were practice for the one he really wanted. Or perhaps they were just something to do in the meantime while Beth was busy...growing up. Christ, all these poor women. She would make sure they and their families found peace.

" _Ahh!"_

Carol spun around at the sound of Ceasar's yell, hearing creaking and wood snapping. She raised her gun and cautiously approached where the yell had sounded. She crept along the wall, but she didn't hear anyone. She saw the door that most likely lead to the basement and peered into the room, having to use a flashlight as there was no power, and there wasn't a light bulb in the socket. The room was empty, save for the massive hole in the floor. The wood was decayed. She could smell it from the living room. _Caesar._

She lightly toed over to the hole and looked down, seeing he had gone through to the basement with a piece of wood through his lower abdomen, a beam of light shining down on him as the strap was caught on a piece of wood. She bent down. "Caesar!"

His head rolled to the side, but he said nothing.

"Hold on, Caesar!" She dug out her phone and called for back up and an ambulance then paused in speaking when she heard grunting from the basement and grabbed the light, discovering he had fallen through to the laundry room. She hung up when they had the necessary information, and she rose and edged over the gap, continuing toward the stairs and down to the basement.

With a quick look around the room to ensure it was safe for them both, she hurried to him and added pressure to the wound, blood seeping out and onto her fingers, and he groaned. "It'll be okay. I've called for help. You'll be okay, just hold on."

He looked at her with wide eyes, feeling the warm blood pooling into his hand and through his fingers. He searched Carol's calm, reassuring blue eyes, his vision beginning to blur, and his throat felt tight. He could hear something further down the hall, and he knew he wouldn't be conscious for much longer. He couldn't back up Carol. He was dead weight. He needed... to have her... her back. He promised to never...ever let her go in alone... Not after... not after...


	6. Unwanted Memories

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Down the hall, Carol heard movement and the sound of soft moaning, like someone coming out of unconsciousness. She grabbed her gun, the blood made her hand slick, but she wouldn't miss. She met Caesar's eyes and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Nu—Get off."

Carol shot up at the sound of a slap, a woman crying out, and she sped down the hall, seeing at the other end Beth and Gorman. Beth was covered in blood and slumped against the wall, her cheek busted open, and Gorman was standing over her, struggling to not beat the life out of her like the others. She was the one, but she brought problems. Problems that were down the hall watching them now, and he didn't want to have any more problems, especially not ones that interfered.

"Tom—" Carol jumped back when he whipped a gun out from the band of his pants and fired at her. She gripped her own gun and clenched her jaw, staying back. She had to get Beth out of this right now. If he was going to go all trigger happy then she needed to distract him with something. Right now the probability that Beth was going to walk out of here alive was very slim. She didn't come this far just to lose her, just to break the news to Noah and Maggie. No, she would get Beth out of this, and she would get Ceasar to the hospital. She had backup coming, but they weren't close enough. She was alone in this. She always worked best alone.

She scanned the area around her for any reflective surfaces, but came up empty. She needed to know where he was standing and where Beth was laying. She had to move quickly. She looked at Ceasar and noticed broken glass by his feet, and she silently made her way over to it, looking at the many broken pieces, finding a piece big enough. She returned to the wall and squatted, sliding the mirror low to the floor to see where Gorman stood. He was hovering over Beth about to pick her up, and Carol saw the way her fingers twitched. Beth wasn't unconscious. Good. That helped. She may need her to run.

Beth hadn't moved from where she fell, and she stayed completely still. She wished now she hadn't woken up from him forcing her unconscious now. She didn't want to ever be in the middle of a gun fight, especially not when she was three months pregnant. She was terrified for her baby, and she prayed nothing happened to the woman down the hall and herself. She couldn't run or hide, so she just had to pray that woman was a good ass shot and ended this nightmare. She just wanted to home to Noah and her family. _God, please, please!_

Carol heard a small groan escape Caesar's lips. She had to get him out of here. She had to get Beth out of here. She'd checked her out with the mirror. She wasn't in good shape, and the sooner this was over and Beth and Ceasar were medically evaluated to ensure they and Beth's baby were all right the better. She had to do something now.

She tried to peek over the corner with the piece of mirror once more, but it must had caught light, because he fired at her. She had jerked back in time. Go reflexes. She took a deep breath and thought over the image where she'd seen Beth. Beth was in front of Gorman on the floor, just slugged against the wall, and Gorman was only about four steps behind her, scrambling for an exit plan, no doubt. He wasn't in the mood to be talked down, so she wasn't going to be able to detain him, or even knee-cap him since he kept firing. He would get her or Beth before Carol got to him, so she needed to act fast before he used Beth as a shield.

She thought about him, about what he would do in this situation, and she almost smiled. He was reckless as hell sometimes, but she liked that about him. It might work. Hell, it had to work. She didn't have many options so it was now or never. She wouldn't let anyone die here today, and if anybody had to die it would be him. Bad things should happen to bad people after all. And if Ceasar could fall through the ceiling at his weight, she could easily knock it down on him with a few bullets.

She took a deep breath and stepped out, firing at the weak spots that were revealed with dark stains on ceiling at the exact moment Gorman had bent over to toss Beth over his shoulder. Carol yelled at Beth when the ceiling began to come down, and Beth kicked Gorman in the shoulder and scrambled to her feet, running to Carol and barely evading Tom's attempt to grab her.

Carol wrapped an arm around Beth and pulled her to where Ceasar was, using her body as a shield for them both as ceiling collapsed. Carol could tell it wouldn't be long before the entire house came down around them, and she wasn't going to wait around for that. When she felt it was safe enough, she let go of Beth and gripped her partner's hand. The clock was ticking, and each second that passed, more wood loosened and would soon collapse on itself and bury them. She held Ceasar's hand tightly, letting him know she was there with him. He was not alone, and she would not let him go into that darkness. She would drag his ass back again and again. Always. She wouldn't let the good ones die. Not ever.

When Carol let her go, Beth spotted her badge. She nearly sobbed at the sight of actual detectives who had not only looked for her but found her, and Carol met her eyes.

"I need you to grip his left hand and pull as hard as you can. Can you do that?"

"Y—yeah." She nodded and took the man's hand.

"Okay, pull!"

Together, they managed to free Ceasar, he cried out in pain, blood gushing from the wound, and Carol put his arm around her shoulder; Beth mirrored her, and they helped him up the stairs and out of the house. Once by the car, Carol showed Beth how to tend to his wound until help arrived, and Carol went back for Gorman.

Beth watched her hurry back to the house then turned her full attention to the man before her. "Shh, you'll be fine. You'll be fine." She smiled reassuringly at him. "Just hold on." She searched his eyes as he began to fade in and out. "Sir? Sir, no. No, keep your eyes open. Please, sir, keep your eyes open!"

She scanned the basement, looking for movement, and she carefully stepped over the floorboards that littered the area, minding the nails. Her boots came in contact with the gun Gorman had used, and she bent down and lifted up rotted wood to see if his body was nearby, but it wasn't. She then saw a blood trail leading down the hall, and she followed with her gun in her hands, pointed downward just in case he could be talked down. No one had to die today.

As she neared the end of the hall, she heard a rattling from a nearby closet, and she spun around to the door. Her back flat against the wall by the door, she twisted the doorknob and flung the door open, and she heard nothing inside, but the scent that spilled from the was one she knew too well. Death. Decay. She held her nose and stepped over, seeing the room filed with bodies and Gorman was holding onto one that had probably only been dead for a few days, his shoulder split open.

"Tom Gorman—"

 _Bang._

He had his back to Carol, so she didn't see the spare gun he had been cradling in his hand. That gun was placed into his mouth and the trigger pulled, the blood and possibly even brain matter splattered on Carol's clothes and boots, and she flinched. It wasn't the first person whose life had been taken before her eyes. It was just the first life that was willingly given up. She lowered her gun and looked away.

She exhaled, hearing the sirens approaching, and she placed her gun back in her holster at her hip. She glanced down at her blouse. Oh, for fuck's sake. She began to angrily unbutton her blouse.

––

Ceasar had lost a lot of blood, but thankfully he was all right. He was lucid and currently stable, and Andrea and Keira were with him. Carol had only stopped by for an update. She wanted to stay, but she had work to do, and she also wanted to see how Beth was doing, so she had to keep both visits short.

She'd just talked to Noah and Maggie. They had rushed to the hospital when Carol gave them the news, and they were in with Beth. Beth was nervously waiting for the ultrasound. The doctor had been busy, but he found them when Carol was checking in on them. She had to know their child was all right before she left. She just had to know, and not from someone else's mouth.

"Maggie, don't be mad." Beth grasped her hand.

"Mad? Mad about what?" She searched her eyes.

"I'm pregnant." She laced her fingers through Noah's. "We're pregnant."

Maggie just shook her head and smiled. "I don't care what you are as long as it's alive and happy, and you're clearly both." She leaned over and kissed her forehead. "It is so good to see you." And to Noah a moment later, "Welcome to family. We're all crazy but you'll love us. Eventually, I hope."

Beth smiled gratefully and hugged her sister.

Caleb had to break up the bonding moment to begin the ultrasound, Beth's teeth dug into her bottom lip when he couldn't find the heartbeat, and Noah and Maggie both held her hand—and their breaths. Then the room came alive at the sound, and Beth let out a relieved sobbed, covering her mouth with her shaky hand as tears ran down her cheeks, and Noah looked at Carol with so such respect and gratitude. Maggie saw his gaze before it returned to Beth, and she stood up and went to Carol to thank her, but Carol was gone.

She frowned and scanned the hall, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen. She would call later. She had her number, so she would call. Or just drop by the precinct. Either way she would let Carol know how grateful they were. Maggie turned to her glowing sister and the ultrasound of her niece or nephew, and her future...whatever Noah would be. They had time to figure all that out. Thank God.

– – –

Carol made her way to the room Ceasar was in the next day, and she leaned in the doorway as Keira and he scribbled a game of dots on some notebook paper while Andrea watched, holding his free hand in both of hers, smiling happily. It was beautiful. She was happy for them. Ceasar would have one hell of a scar.

"You gonna stare in at us forever?" Ceasar pursed his lips, not looking at her as he took his turn.

"It's a possibility." She sauntered into the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess."

"He's pretty doped up right now." Andrea pointed to the paper where most of his lines were zig-zagged.

She nodded and sat down on the foot of the bed. "Well, I have some candy for you." She pulled out a Symphony bar—which were his all time favorite—from her purse. "And I also have a card and bear." She handed them to him. "I gave the flowers and balloons to Beth. She looked like she needed them, and I know you hate flowers because they remind you of funerals."

"I like balloons." He accepted the gifts.

"You like sucking the helium out of balloons for the funny, hitch-pitched voice," Carol corrected.

"You just haven't heard me sing _I Will Survive_." He smirked at her.

"It's actually very good," Andrea added.

"He got the idea from _Friends,"_ Keira told Carol. "From Chandler."

"No, Chandler got it from me," he argued.

Carol laughed. "I'm sure he did."

Ceasar met her eyes. "How are you? I heard about Gorman from Shepard."

She shrugged. "I'm fine. I had to throw out my favorite blouse though."

Andrea stood up. "Keira, let's go get something to drink." She took her hand and they left the room.

"Carol, you can talk to me, you know."

"I know, but there's not much to say. It wasn't the first time someone's died before my eyes. It may not be the last." She shrugged. "Enough about me. The women Gorman had down in that closet—they have been identified and their families notified. I pulled some favors, and there will be an article about them in the paper today, so Gorman won't be the full focus. Their lives were stolen, and they should be remembered, even if it's for a short while."

He smiled. "That's nice of you."

She waved it away. "It's the least I could do." She stood up. "I have some paperwork to fill out, but I'll try and stop by tomorrow."

"Don't be a stranger."

"I won't." She lingered in the doorway. "It's good to see you. You had me worried."

"My sincerest apologizes."

"Get some rest and recover, Martinez." She made a stern face to get a laugh out of him then headed out, saying goodbye to his girls on her way. She needed to go home and shower again. It'd been a day since they saved Beth, but she still could feel the warmth of his blood. She wasn't sure she'd ever shower that feeling off.

– – –

 _"Don't be so camera shy," his husky voice teased her, the feel of his stubble tickling her cheek, and she giggled, trying to get away from him. "Hold still."_

 _"No! I told you not to take pictures of me this early in the morning. I look bad."_

 _"You look beautiful."_

 _"Do you want some mustard with that baloney?" She pushed the camera away and got out of bed, stepping into his closet. "It's late, and I have to run, but I'll call you." She found her clothes and dressed, glancing at him as he checked his phone. "Is something wrong?"_

 _"Well, yeah, you're leaving."_

 _She rolled her eyes. "I'll be back." She leaned over the bed and kissed him. "You're not a child, so stop pouting."_

 _"Then stay." He gripped her hand and pulled her onto the bed. "You can call in sick. They'll never know."_

 _"Yeah, 'cause we're both ducking out of work at the same time after the guys saw us leaving together won't raise suspicion at all."_

 _He met her eyes. "Do you really care what they think?"_

 _"No. No, of course not." She didn't sound convincing._

 _"Why would you care about a bunch of stranger's opinions?"_

 _"They're not strangers. We were all in the academy together, and honestly, it looks..." she dropped off._

 _"Looks?" he prodded._

 _"Like you're my meal ticket," she confessed._

 _"That's ridiculous." He stood up, and she tucked hair behind her ear. "You can't think that."_

 _"I don't. They do." She looked up at him. "You don't see the way they look at us."_

 _"Who does? I'll talk to them."_

 _"That's my point! I don't need you to protect me. I can do that myself. I just need you to...treat me like an employee, no special treatment, no morning coffee and cinnamon rolls, no taking me along for cases I shouldn't be involved in. It looks bad, Rick, and I don't want them to think less of you."_

 _"I'm not...giving you special treatment. You're a damn good officer, and I just want you to be prepared for the next part of your job."_

 _"I am prepared! The whole reason I joined is because of the bastards who took away best friend's sister! I found her body, and I didn't panic. I did everything I could to save her, and I took a vow to never let that happen again if I could stop it! I am damn prepared, okay? I know the risks."_

 _"You sound like it."_

 _"Rick, don't start this shit. Can we not just have one normal morning together? Or is that too much to ask for?" She was glaring._

 _"I guess not."_

 _She scoffed and slipped off the bed. "I'm going home."_

 _"Be safe."_

 _She stopped in the doorway, holding her bag, and she turned to him. "Fix your damn closet shelf. It's crocked, and it'll fall one day and break your toe."_

 _"Why the hell do you care about my shelf?"_

 _"Because I care about you, you dumbass! Is that so hard to believe?" She folded her arms. "Goodbye."_

 _"Carol, wait." He caught her at the front door. "Just—I'm sorry."_

 _"I'm still leaving. I have to meet Ceasar for lunch. We're going to the range after...so if you want to join us, you can."_

 _"You want me to meet your best friend?"_

 _"With loaded guns nearby," she nodded. "He's a helluva shot too."_

 _"I bet he is."_

 _"Pardon me. I have to go home."_

 _"You live in a shithole."_

 _"Asshole." She tried to leave, but he blocked the door. "Well, this isn't creepy at all, Mr. Grimes."_

 _"Look, why don't you just move in with me? I got plenty of room, and you love the view from the window."_

 _"No."_

 _"You didn't even think about it."_

 _"Did you miss the fights we continue to have, or are you just stupid?" She met his eyes, not meaning for that to come out as harsh had it had. "Rick, I do appreciate the offer, but I have to decline it. We...don't even talk about what our relationship is and you want to live together? That's insane. Besides my rent's paid up till the end of the month, and your place smells like a takeout box."_

 _He smirked. "We can talk."_

 _"See, we were going to talk last night. Do you remember how well that went?" She moved him out of the way. "I'll call you later if you decide not to come to the range." She kissed his cheek and left._

 _He ran a hand through his hair and picked up his phone, calling Lori about the message she'd left on his phone._

 _––_

 _"Hey, look, it's the slut," Caesar mused._

 _"Only in my off hours." She pulled her hair up. "So, Mr. Martinez, how was your date with the lawyer?"_

 _"Okay, I suppose."_

 _"You suppose?" She handed him a pair of goggles. "What happened?"_

 _"She kinda...zoned out. A lot."_

 _"You do babble about some weird things."_

 _"Carol." He tossed her earmuffs. "Be serious."_

 _"Sorry." She put them on. "You really like her."_

 _"I do. I just...don't think she likes me."_

 _"She went out with you," Carol argued, "on a day hotter than any other to watch a movie and have dinner." He just shook his head. "Really, if she doesn't like you, she likes torturing herself."_

 _"How was your night?" he changed the subject. "You and Rick seem pretty close."_

 _"I guess." She leaned against the wall behind him. "But honestly...I think I'm more annoyed by him than anything."_

 _"Then why date him?"_

 _"Date? I think you have go out or at least have fresh...ish food eat to have a date. The best I've gotten is leftover takeout, and he has bad taste in Chinese food." She sighed. "And we just fight."_

 _"At least you get makeup sex after," he smirked suggestively at her._

 _"Oh, shut up!" She kicked his behind with the tip of her boot, but she was blushing._

 _"Do you even like him?" Ceasar asked._

 _"I don't know. I care about him, you know? He's...sweet sometimes, and he has his moments. He can be pretty charming."_

 _"Yeah, but do you care about him like you care about me? Or like you care about your last boyfriend?"_

 _She paused, and his brows rose. "Don't give me that look, Ceasar Martinez."_

 _"So, sex buddy?"_

 _"I hate you sometimes." She picked up her gun. "It is not like that."_

 _"What's his favorite color?"_

 _"What?"_

 _"What is his favorite color? It's a simple question."_

 _"I don't know. Brown?"_

 _"Green," he corrected. "What's his favorite food?" She opened her mouth, but he interrupted, "And not takeout. A real, home-cooked meal favorite food."_

 _She answered with a glare._

 _"Does he like football or wrestling? Wine or beer? Rice or potatoes? Has he even seen your apartment?"_

 _"Fine, you've made your point!" she grumbled._

 _"Don't be embarrassed. He's a decent guy, and his experience may come in handy."_

 _She inhaled. "Can we just shoot things and pretend we're just two single idiots?"_

 _"At least when we're done pretending, you have a relationship."_

 _"No, if I were in a relationship, he would have shown up to meet you."_

 _"You invited him?"_

 _"Yeah, I thought...it'd be nice for you two to have an actual introduction. I get sick of Martinez and Grimes, but I guess he's not." She narrowed her eyes. "How in the hell do you know his favorite color?"_

 _"Have you ever seen him in street clothes?"_

 _"Didn't we just establish that I only see him out of his clothes?"_

 _"Well, he looks like a goddamn forest."_

 _"Not surprising." She turned to the target. "Whoever gets misses the most has to buy lunch."_

 _"You're on."_

 _"I'm feeling like I want something expensive."_

 _"You know, so was I."_

– – –

Carol rolled over and read the time, still unable to sleep. She ran a hand over her face and just gave up on the idea of sleep. She looked at the album, even in the dark she was still able to see the smiling faces of the young woman whose lives were snatched from them. She was going to attend their services, pay her respects. She was even paying for a funeral for one of the girls. Her grandmother had raised her and looked for her every single day, but she was unable to pay for a funeral, so Carol had offered. The woman was in tears, happy to know her granddaughter would get a proper burial. She sent Carol home with a basket of baked goods and flowers.

Sitting up, Carol ran her hands over her face and stood up, the memories of him playing in her head again. She prepared a pot of coffee and nibbled on a muffin. She hated when her mind did this. Every year on his birthday she would remember him and their time together, but Rick was long gone. There was no point in thinking back. It was a part of her past, and she didn't want to dig it up anymore.

She heard her phone ringing and frowned, wondering who the hell would be calling at five in the morning, and she saw the name Ryan Samuels and smiled. "Hello?"

"So, you are awake then?"

"When do I ever sleep is the real question." She leaned against the counter. "How are you? I haven't heard from you in years. I'm surprised you still have my number."

"I'd never forget it, and as for how I am...well, why don't you come outside and see?"

"What?" She looked at the door. "You're here?"

"With the girls."

She put the phone down and headed out the door, making her way to the first floor and seeing them through the glass. She smiled and let them inside, Mika and Lizzie both look absolutely exhausted and Ryan looked the same as the last time she saw him, just with more beard. She hugged him. "It's so nice to see you again."

He pulled back. "It's only been, what? Twelve years?"

"You're the one who didn't call me back."

"I emailed."

She smirked and bent down to get a good look at the girls. Mika, who she barely remembered, had two long blonde braids, her bright blue eyes were happy, and she looked just like her mother. "You must be Mika."

"Yeah." She sounded a little nervous.

"And this is Lizzie." She turned her gaze to the taller sister, who had one braid and shared most of her facial features with her dad. She smiled at Carol, but there was something strange about the girl. Carol had felt this way before, but never around a child. It was usually brought on in the interrogation room. She must still have work on the mind. With so many dead blondes, it was no surprise. "It's nice to see you two again. You may not remember me, but I was very close to your mother."

"I remember a picture of you and her in Dad's office," Lizzie corrected her, looking at the buildings around them. "You were bigger then."

"Lizzie!" Ryan scolded.

"It's fine. I was." She was very pregnant then, so she shrugged it off. "Why don't you guys come up?"

"You don't have to work?"

"No. I don't always work."

"Yes, you do."

She rolled her eyes and led them inside to her apartment. She gave them the tour. It wasn't that big of an apartment. It was two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, bathroom, and there was the lovely view from the living room window. It was a livable, and she was rarely here anyway. It was the first apartment she'd ever bought by herself. Caesar was her roommate for years then he and Andrea got a place, and Carol couldn't stand to live in that shithole alone and this place was open. It worked out.

"Why don't I make you girls some hot chocolate? Help yourselves to any of those goodies." She gestured to the baseket. "Especially the cinnamon rolls. I cannot stand them."

"Thanks." Mika smiled from ear to ear and helped herself to a cookie.

Lizzie just sat down on the couch and scanned the living room.

She poured milk into a pan while Ryan pulled down four mugs. "Are these the two little wriggle bundles I held in my arms?"

"They go by Lizzie and Mika now."

"Oh, wow. Ryan, they're beautiful." She filled their cups with coffee. "How old are they now?"

"Eleven and ten."

"Wow, I feel old."

"Tell me about it." He smiled. "It's good to see you. I've missed you."

"Me too." She grabbed the packets of hot chocolate and tore them open. "So, how have you been?" She listened as he told her. She met Ryan and Christa when she was still a rookie cop. They had a break in and Carol was close so she went to investigate. They ended up becoming good friends after that. She was even asked to be the godmother of Lizzie and Mika. It was sweet of them, but she hoped nothing ever happened to them. Her hope wavered when Christa became sick. It was cancer, and while she fought for years, she passed on when Lizzie was seven. Carol couldn't make it to the funeral. She was...passed out, disgustingly inebriated, and Ceasar told her about it a week later. She never forgave herself for that, but somehow Ryan did. She never understood why, though she was grateful. He was a good friend and a good man. She hoped that one day she could make up for being so selfish.

"Aren't these the women who were killed? I saw them on the news." Lizzie was flipping through the album on the coffee table.

Carol quickly grabbed the album and put it on the shelf. "Yeah, they were." She glanced apologetically at Ryan, and he simply heaved a sigh. "Your hot coco's ready."

"Thanks, Carol!" Mika looked so happy, and Carol couldn't help but smile back at the polite young girl.

"Thank you." Lizzie gave a smile and unwrapped a cinnamon roll.

As the girls ate, Ryan pulled Carol aside and asked for a favor. She didn't know what to expect, but what came out of his mouth certainly wasn't it.

"What do you mean, a clinic?" Carol questioned.

"It's just...a second opinion. Since Christa died, Lizzie's been...exhibiting some odd behavior, so I had her see a grief counselor. She thinks Lizzie should see a Dr. Stooky here in the city."

"Why would she think that?"

He shook his head, and she wasn't sure if it was because he didn't know, or if he just didn't want to explain. "I just need you to watch Mika. I don't want to leave Lizzie alone up there, and I don't want Mika around all of that."

"Yeah, I'd love to watch Mika. Does she know what's going on with her sister?"

"Not yet. I will tell her. I just need to figure out how."

"Okay. Well, I can make up the guest bedroom for her. How long will I keep her?"

"Just a few days. The appointment isn't for a few weeks though. I still have to make arranges for where we'll be staying, and I want to make sure Mika will be taken care of and comfortable. I trust you to keep her safe."

"Of course. I'd never let anything happen to her."

"I know." He smiled. "We're just here for the weekend, to check out a few places and to make sure you'd take in Mika, then we're heading back. I can't tell you how relieved I am that you said yes."

She smiled a little. "Ryan, is there something else going on?"

"No. Why?"

"You just seem...nervous."

"I'm tired. It's been...a long week." He cleared his throat. "Why don't we get back to the girls?"

They returned to the living room where Mika was gazing out the window with Carol's favorite view, cupping her mug of hot coco in her hand, and Lizzie was still working on her cinnamon roll and hot coco. Ryan looked exhausted, and Carol wondered exactly what happened with Lizzie's therapist. She'd been in therapy for years, so obviously this was more than Christa's death. She might have to call in a favor with Rosita. If she couldn't get it out of Ryan then she would. If Lizzie was a danger to herself or others, Carol had to know. This might put her on Ryan's bad side, but there was something there, and she had to know what.


	7. Give Me A Happy Beginning

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

"So, what's going on with Shepard?" Ceasar opened his pudding cup, stirring it up with the plastic spoon. "She came in here this afternoon, looking like a storm."

"The Governor," Carol replied. "He's been moving drugs through the city in a way she can't track, so she's peeved."

"Oh." He understood now. She'd been trying to nail him for years. "Are we ever going to know his real name and not his street name?"

"Beats me." She shuffled her cards. "Your move, kiddo."

Keira pursed her lips and made her move, Carol really didn't like _Uno,_ but she didn't have a choice. She let Keira pick the game, and she didn't have anything else with her so _Uno_ it was _._ She wanted to fry Keira, but she could only fry Ceasar. It wasn't fair. Damn game. It was better than _Monopoly_ any day though.

"Ryan's in town," Carol drew a card, "with his girls."

"Oh? He called you?"

"He came to see me. He wants me to look after Mika, so I'm going to have to use a few vacation days in a couple weeks."

"Is the world ending? Carol Williams on a vacation? Holy crap." Keira laughed, and Carol flipped him off behind her cards. "Wow, I'm impressed. You two must have really reconnected."

She simply owed him, and she wanted to spend time with Mika before she was all grown and in college. Maybe she could spend some time with Lizzie before they left for the clinic. She could only hope. "It's been so long since I've seen them. Twelve years. I mean, I was there for Lizzie's birth and Mika's too, but I couldn't stay long." She looked over her cards with dismay. She wasn't going to win this round.

"I'm sure you two will get along well. You're good with kids."

"Why don't you have any?" Keira asked curiously.

Caesar looked at Carol, and she said, "It's all right." She cleared her throat. "I did. A kid. A son."

"You did?" She looked at Carol with big eyes. "Where is he?"

"With God," Caesar answered in a soft tone.

"Oh." Her face fell. "I'm so sorry."

"Oh, don't be, sweetie." Carol reached over and clasped her hand. "He's in a much better place, and while I miss him, I know he's watching over me." She smiled at her, and Keira slowly returned it.

Ceasar smiled a little at how easy it was for Carol to talk about Sam. It'd been twelve years since that damned day, and she'd come a long way. He prayed she kept improving. It was his constant prayer. Andrea's too. No one should have to endure all that Carol has endured. He couldn't even think about it. How it all happened there at the end. Christ.

– – –

 _Caesar woke to the sound of retching, and he found Carol on the bathroom floor, getting sick into the toilet. He held her shoulders and rubbed her back until she leaned into him, the nausea dying down, and he smoothed her hair back as she began to sob._ _He helped her up and guided her to the living room, getting her some water, and he sat on the table in front of her, holding the trashcan so she could spit out the first drink. He set the trashcan down and met her eyes. "Sorry, that was some shit food, I know. Don't cry, you'll only upset your stomach more."_

 _She shook her head. "Caesar, I'm pregnant."_

 _He gaped, eyes wide._ " _Holy fucking shit."_

 _"I got sick at the crime scene for the first time." She wiped at the corners of her eyes. "I took a test last night, and I went to the doctors today...and I am pregnant."_

" _Does Rick know?"_

" _No." She shook her head. "Only you and Dr. S."_

" _Well, thanks for telling me first." She couldn't smile at him, so he smiled at her and shook her by her knees playfully. "This is a good thing, Carol. You're gonna be a mommy."_

 _She laughed a little at his tone, still crying. "It's bad timing though."_

" _So? You're gonna have little piece of you running around here, and I get to be the cool uncle. You get to have a baby shower, and you have a legit excuse now to bail on those drinks at the bar. You can eat whatever you want, and you can decorate a nursery." He searched her eyes. "Are you not happy about this?"_

" _I'm just... It's a lot." She took his hand and smiled at him. "And I wouldn't want anybody else to the cool uncle."_

 _He hugged her, and she buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm here for you, Carol."_

" _I know." She gripped his shirt tightly. "Thank you." Now all she had to do was tell Rick he was going to be a father. Well, shit. How was she going to do this when less than a week ago he wouldn't meet her and Ceasar and Andrea for dinner? God, help her._

– – –

 _She waited by his car, the wind blowing at her hair and cardigan, and she sipped on the ginger tea Ceasar had bought her instead of her regular coffee. It was the only thing about being pregnant she didn't like. That and the morning sickness. At least Ceasar was there to help her out. Best roommate award went to him._

 _Upon hearing the door open, she lifted her head and saw Rick with his partner. She waved, and Rick met her at the car, his partner walking away to make a phone call or just to look like he was so they wouldn't think he was eavesdropping. It had been a week since Rick and Carol had even spoken two words to each other. This was awkward._

" _Tea?" He made a face. "Since when do you drink tea?"_

" _Since I discovered that I'm pregnant," she replied, deciding it was better to just blurt it out than beat around the bush._

" _P—pregnant?"_

" _Yeah." She pushed off the car. "Would you like to go somewhere and talk about this?"_

" _I would, but...I promised to have lunch with Shane."_

 _She almost scoffed. "Right, silly me. Have fun."_

" _Carol—"_

" _Don't, all I need from you are visits," she cut him off. "We may not be together or even friends one day, but this kid will not suffer for that. You're going to be in his or her life, understood?"_

" _Yeah, I want to be. I would like to talk about this, but not right now. I...I really have to meet Shane. I mean, go with Shane. I'm sorry."_

 _"Well, I have to meet Ceasar anyway."_

" _Ceasar again?"_

" _Yep, we're going shopping since I just had a feeling you wouldn't make this a priority." She shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I'm not even mad. I just need you to be there for the baby." She walked away, and he just watched._

– – –

" _He's beautiful." Ceasar smiled as he leaned over her shoulder, seeing his baby nephew. "He looks just like you."_

" _I think he looks like Rick," Carol confessed._

" _I think you two are way too into this baby," Andrea teased._

" _Just shut up and take the picture," Ceasar mused._

" _Smile, butt munch." She took a picture._

" _Butt munch?"_

" _You don't cuss in front of a baby." She sat down by Carol's feet. "He really is beautiful. Rick lucked out."_

" _Where is that...butt munch?"_

" _I don't know." She adjusted her son in her arms. "I think he had court." He's been working on this case for months, and he's been working and pushing himself so hard. She didn't even call him when her water broke. She wanted him concentrate on this case. That son of a bitch needed to be locked away, and Rick might not have been able to get away anyhow._

" _Well, we're here." Andrea smiled, reaching over and gently stroking the newborn's cheek. She knew the truth. She and Carol had been having lunch when her water broke, and she knew Rick didn't know. It was for the best. Carol had mentioned how important this case was to him, and honestly, he didn't miss much anyway. It was somewhat unfair when she thought about it for too long, but it was just one day. What was one day compared to the rest of this baby's life?_ _"What's this little guy's name?"_

" _Sam," Carol answered without hesitation._

" _Just Sam?"_

" _Yeah, Sam Williams."_

" _Not Williams-Grimes?" Ceasar paused. "No, I get it. That was hideous."_

 _Carol laughed. "Rick and I talked about it. We decided it'd be best for him to take my name. I tried to get him to see Grimes was fine by me, but he didn't back down." One day Sam could decide if he wants to be a Williams or a Grimes. Carol didn't care about his last name, just that he was healthy and happy._

 _He nodded. "Fits him perfectly."_

 _"It does._ _So, how's the new place?" Andrea snapped another picture. "The nursery, I mean."_

" _It's really great." She smiled appreciatively at Ceasar. "Thank you for taking the time to do that for me."_

" _I'm a handy guy, and I felt bad about leaving you."_

 _"Please, don't feel that way. You two are happy together, and I'm happy that you're living together, so please don't feel bad."_

" _I'll try." He sat behind Andrea and laced his fingers through hers. "We'll stay with you tonight. We don't have plans, and our place smells of wet paint."_

" _I told you to wait until spring to paint," Andrea murmured._

" _Next time I'll listen."_

 _Carol smiled at them, enjoying their playful bickering, and she felt truly blissful. She couldn't wait to tell Rick to come and see them. He was going to be so emotional. He would try not to be, but he would end up crying at least once. It happened to them all. There was something in the air or the water. She didn't know, and she didn't care, because she had a beautiful baby boy to raise, with the occasional help from her new friend Andrea and Ceasar and Rick._

 _She looked down at the baby boy in her arms and smiled tearfully. He was so real, so beautiful. She had never had anything like this before in her entire life. No real parents, no real siblings, but him? God, he was real and all hers. She was going to love him so much. She would never let anything happen to him. She would die before she let anything happen to him. That was a promise she swore to keep._

––

" _All right, little man, welcome home," Ceasar announced to the babe that was dozing off. "I cannot wait until he's older and can get excited."_

" _I think you have enough excitement for the all of us," Andrea commented. "Help me with these bags!"_

" _Right." He slipped by Carol._

 _Carol gently rocked on her heels to lully her baby to sleep, smiling. "Welcome home, baby." She looked up at Rick, and he kissed his son's forehead tenderly, not wanting to wake him._

 _ **We will call this place our home, the dirt in which our roots may grow.**_

 _ **Though the storms will push and pull, we will call this place our home.**_

" _Rick, here, like this." Carol set the laundry basket down and showed him how to properly hold Sam. "There." She ran her thumb over Sam's head and smiled a little._

" _Carol, I just wanted to apologize again for not being there for you. I—"_

" _Don't. It was my fault. I didn't call, and I had Andrea and Ceasar. I wasn't alone." She picked up the basket. "You had court."_

 _"I should have called to check in on you." Her due date was close._

 _"Stop. You can't turn back time, Rick. You made sure a vicious killer went to prison. You made the world a little safer for our son, okay? Focus on that." She smiled a little. "B_ _esides it's not like we're together. We fight too much. It's easier this way, for the both of us." She didn't want to explain it to her doctor either. She kept asking about the father, and she didn't want to have to explain the story. Everybody kept saying they should get married, but they could barely date. She wouldn't put her child through that, and they needed to mind their business._

 _"So, what should I know?"_

" _Know?" She sat on the couch and began to fold the clothes. "About what? Sam?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _There's not much to know. He's barely a week old."_

" _There must be something. Does he like to held a certain way?"_

" _Well, he hasn't thrown up on you, but that's not much of sign." She ran a hand through her hair. "He's practically brand new, and don't ask me what our son likes. You can find out along the way, just like me."_

 _He smiled at her._

" _What?" She narrowed her eyes. "What?"_

" _It's...the first time you've called him "our" son and not "my" son."_

 _She chuckled. "Well, I did do all the work." She smirked at him. "He looks like you though. His eyes."_

 _He gazed down at their baby and smiled. "He does."_

 _Her smirk turned into a smile at the sight of them, and she returned to folding her clothes._

 _ **We'll tell our stories on these walls. Every year, measure how tall.**_

 _ **And just like a work of art, we'll tell our stories on these walls.**_

" _Rick! Ceasar!" Carol slammed her hand into the bathroom door twice. "Come here!" She hurried back to Andrea and Sam, and the boys were a few seconds behind her, both too tired for her banging after staying up most of the night trying to get Sam to sleep, and they both discovered what Carol had called them in there for._

" _Oh, my God." Ceasar bent down. "Look at him go. How cute. Now...where's the coffee?"_

 _Rick smiled at his son crawling for the first time, and he wondered just how bad Carol would be when he started walking. She practically video taped his every move. It was almost weird, but he understood why. She never had parents to do that for her, and she didn't want him to miss out on anything. It was very motherly, and he adored her for it. Of course he could never tell her that because she would assume that he had feelings for her when she strictly stated they were going to have a platonic relationship for the sake of the baby, as their romantic relationship didn't go all too well._

" _He's learning so fast." Andrea gripped Carol's arms. "I think we know who he takes after for that."_

" _Thanks, Andrea." Rick lightly glared._

" _Nah, it's true. Kid takes after his mama," Caesar replied. "Maybe he'll get your charming personality."_

 _Rick turned and began to vigorously brush his teeth on his way back to the bathroom, and they laughed, and Carol set a hand to her heart at this feeling. She wanted to remember it always. Family. A real family. She had never been so blessed. It was a strange, small, broken mess, but it real and loving and teasing. She'd never let it go. Time and distance be damned, she wasn't letting was go of this._

 _ **Let the years we're here be kind, be kind. Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide.**_

 _ **Settle our bones like wood over time, over time. Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.**_

" _I only want a family picture," Carol urged. "For Sam."_

" _We aren't a normal family, and it might...be misleading."_

" _Misleading to whom? Do you think I'm going to post it in The Times?"_

" _No. No, I don't, but...things are different. I can't just...be at your beck and call."_

" _My beck and call?" Carol's brows rose and she stepped back. "I'm sorry, but your son asked me for this so he could have a picture of you at all, but go ahead and tell him no. I'm sure he won't be disappointed. You've let him down so many times before—what's one more time?"_

" _Don't do that," he hissed. "Don't blame it all on me!"_

" _You're the one saying no!"_

" _Because I have other obligations!" he snapped. "I love him very much, and I will do anything he wants, but there are limits."_

" _Who is she?" Carol demanded. "I know this isn't you, and you don't have to protect me. We're barely friends at this point, so what woman said you can't take a damn picture with your son?"_

 _He bit back and clenched his jaw. "Look, I don't want to have this discussion again. I will take the picture, but we need to work out a schedule. I'm too busy to be coming over here at one in the morning or later."_

" _He's three years old, Rick. We can't work out a schedule! Things pop up! We both have lives outside of raising him, but yours takes propriety over him, so why don't you just forget it? Forget the picture. Forget taking him on Thursday. Forget all of it! You probably already have."_

" _You will not keep him from me!"_

" _I'm not! You are!" Her voice broke and she had to take a step back. "Damn it, Rick. There are things he needs you for. Things he wants you for, and what the hell am I going to tell him? You're off with your girlfriend? You're across town at a murder scene? You don't even call to say good night anymore. He noticed you don't wear your jacket anymore. The matching ones you bought for him?"_

" _He noticed that?"_

" _Of course." She crossed her arms. "He notices a lot of things. Like your glaring absence."_

" _Carol, I am sorry. It's not a woman keeping me from seeing him. I just have a lot on my plate right now. I'm sorry. I'll... I'll do the pictures, and I'll take him on Thursday. I'll call before he's in bed."_

" _At least leave a message for him to listen to."_

" _I will."_

 _She nodded. "Go kiss him good night, read him a story. He wants you to."_

" _He's still up?"_

" _He waited to wait for you, and I can't will him to sleep, so yeah." She gestured down the hall to his room. "We'll talk more later, just be here for him tonight."_

 _He ducked his head and walked down the hall, finding his son on the bed with a storybook, and he joined him, seeing the many pictures of him with Ceasar, Carol and Andrea on his walls, and he sighed. He wanted to be better than this._

 _ **A little broken, a little new. We are the impact and the glue.**_

 _ **Capable of more than we know, we call this fixer upper home.**_

 _Carol sat in the window, cradling a cup of tea in her hands as she gazed out at the lights in the dark city, listening to Ceasar read to Sam, using ridiculous voices and making him laugh. She couldn't help but smile. She was glad he came over for dinner. It cheered Sam right up. He needed to be cheered up after the day he'd had. His babysitter was such a bitch, and she would not be allowed back into this apartment._

 _Ceasar joined Carol. "He's out."_

" _Thank you." She met his eyes. "I really appreciate you taking time to do that."_

" _I'm the cool uncle. It's my job." He smirked. "You look beat. How are you?"_

" _Exhausted." She shook her head. "I want to sleep, but I keep seeing their faces, wondering if...maybe I missed some detail that could lead us to this guy."_

" _Carol, you can't do it all. You're a mother and a cop and a counselor—you do volunteer work and bust your ass for this city. You need a break."_

" _My breaks would get someone killed." She sipped her tea._

" _Then cut back a little. I'll pick up some of your slack. Andrea's always talking about how she would like to help out at a soup kitchen. We can do that together, and you can rest, spend time with Sam."_

" _Okay. That'd be nice." She rubbed her shoulder. "How is Andrea?"_

" _Busy. She's out of town, helping a friend with some...lawyer thing."_

" _You don't know?"_

" _There were a lot of complicated words," he teased._

 _She laughed softly. "You_ did _used to copy my English work. You'd just give it that Martinez charm. Heh." She bit her bottom lip. "Didn't you get a better grade than me once?"_

" _The charm has never failed me."_

" _Clearly."_

 _She glanced down at her lukewarm tea. "Did you ever think it'd turn out like this?"_

" _Hmm?"_

" _When we were kids, did you ever think we'd end up as cops, dying for a chance to a homicide detective?"_

" _No. Then again I wanted to be a rapper." She snorted and covered her mouth as she giggled, and he looked playfully affronted. "Hey, I could carry a beat!"_

" _Oh, my God! Is that what that was at night?" Her eyes got wide. "I thought that what rat fights sounded like!"_

 _He glared. "I had skills. Now I'm just...waiting."_

" _For what, might I ask?"_

" _I'll let you know when I know." He leaned back. "I love this view."_

" _Me too." She drank from her mug. "It's the second most comforting thing I've had in my life."_

" _Sam first?"_

" _Tied actually," she corrected, "with you."_

 _He smiled. "I love you, Carol, and I am always gonna be there for you. No matter what, I've got your back."_

" _I know you do, and I have yours." She reached over and grasped his hand. "Hey, do you remember the pact we made as kids?"_

" _The virginity pact or—?"_

" _Oh God, I told you to forget about that, or I would make you!" She smacked his hand away, and he laughed. "That was the worst pact ever, and you're an asshole."_

" _You came up with it!"_

" _No, I came up with the pact to make sure neither of us had sex drunk. You came up with the virginity pact."_

" _I have no idea what you're talking about. Did you spike that tea? Carol, we've talked about this."_

" _Asshole!" She smiled and rolled her eyes. "Forget it."_

" _Wait, no, what pact?"_

" _Forget it."_

" _Carol, it'll bug the shit out of me if you don't tell me."_

 _She smirked and slipped off the sill, heading to the kitchen for to warm up a slice of pizza._

 _He turned in the sill as she ate a piece of pepperoni from the pizza, smirking at him. "Oh, you asshole."_

" _Yep."_

 _ **With each year, our color fades. Slowly, our paint chips away.**_

 _ **But we will find the strength and the nerve it takes**_

 _ **To repaint and repaint and repaint every day.**_

" _Rick Grimes." Carol demanded again. "Where the hell is his room?"_

 _The nurse just looked at Carol. "Are you family?"_

 _It took everything she had not to reach over and rattle her. "Yes. I am family. Now, please, tell me where his room is!"_

 _She moved slowly to find his room, and Carol turned her head and blinked furiously, laughed once humorlessly. She really wanted to climb over the desk and find the damn information herself. Andrea took her hand to try and keep her calm while Ceasar held his five-year-old nephew, Sam, by his shoulders and assured him mom was fine and so was Rick._

 _They had gotten the news about two hours ago, but between traffic and this bitch nurse, they had no idea what was happening to him now. Rick had been shot during a hostage situation, as were one of the hostages and an EMT. They had called during Sam's soccer game, and while Carol didn't want to drag him into this, she couldn't just up and leave. He had a right to know anyway. Rick was his dad after all._

 _About ten minutes later, they finally got his room number and an update. He was alive, the bullet had been removed and there was no major damage. Moreover he was lucid enough for visitors. Carol didn't know how long he had been at the hospital, but she was so relieved he was all right. She couldn't wait to see him. She had been so worried, but now that she knew he was okay, she could relax and really make sure he was okay._

 _ **Let the years we're here be kind, be kind. Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide.**_

 _ **Settle our bones like wood over time, over time. Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.**_

 _Andrea and Ceasar followed Carol and Sam to Rick's room, and Carol held her son's hand, seeing that he was a shade paler than usual, and she assured him everything was all right. He nodded, and she found Rick's room, and inside was Rick. And a guest._

 _A woman with long black hair and deep brown eyes was at his bedside, talking to him, eyes red from crying, but she was laughing now. She wore purple plaid and jeans, and she was way too skinny. She wasn't a cop, and she wasn't someone Carol knew, but by the way she looked at Rick, they knew each other. In more than just a friendly way at that._

" _Sam." Rick's voice was rough, but he smiled._

" _Daddy." He ran over to the bed, and since he wasn't tall enough, and Rick wasn't strong enough, Carol gave him a boost, and he hugged his father. "I was so scared."_

" _I'm so sorry." He kissed his head. "I never wanted to put you through that."_

 _Ceasar and Andrea waited in the hall, both eyeing the woman who silently watched the family interact, and Carol met the woman's eyes and introduced herself._

" _Lori." She rose out of her seat and accepted Carol's handshake. "It's nice to meet you. Rick talks about you all the time."_

" _Does he?" Rick just smiled a little, holding his son close. "Good things, I hope."_

" _Mostly."_

 _Carol smiled. "Well, I don't mean to be rude, Lori, but I think it's best if you were to give us a moment."_

" _It's late, and I have to get back to work anyway." She turned to Rick. "I'll come back later, but get some rest." She left when he gave a nod._

" _Ex-girlfriend," Ceasar murmured. "Kinda bitchy."_

" _Ex? I'd say current," Andrea whispered back. "Explains the bitchy. Your man's child and baby mama just walked in and cut your visit short. I'd be bitchy too."_

" _You'd tell me if you had a love child, wouldn't you?"_

 _She just smiled._

" _Andrea."_

" _You look cute today. I'm going to get myself a drink. My throat's been dry since the game." She walked off._

" _Andrea!"_

 _She turned and walked backward. "I'll get back to you on that. I like to watch you squirm."_

 _He shook his head and entered the room as Rick told them what happened, Carol smoothed Sam's hair down, though Rick still held him, and Ceasar leaned against the wall. Rick looked like shit, but he was alive, breathing on his own, and that was something to be grateful for, even if he had a secret girlfriend._

 _ **Let the years we're here be kind, be kind. Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide.**_

 _ **Settle our bones like wood over time, over time. Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.**_

 _ **Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.**_

" _I'd never let anything take me from you," Rick swore to Sam on the phone that night. "I love you."_

" _I love you too, Daddy." Sam smiled._

 _Carol smiled and hugged him closer for Rick, and they spoke a little more, and Rick even read part of Sam's favorite bedtime story to him, and Carol read the rest while Rick listened. It was the first time since he was a baby that they had read to him together, and he fell asleep halfway in Carol's arms, and Rick could hear his soft breathing._

 _Carol picked up the phone. "He's out cold."_

" _Well, I should get to bed too."_

" _Yeah. Sleep well."_

" _Carol?"_

" _Yeah?"_

" _Thank you for bringing him to see me today."_

" _Rick, our fights were never his. I won't let him miss out on having a father, because we butt heads. I'll do as much as I can to make sure you're a part of his life, but you have to do the same."_

" _I will be there."_

" _I know you will. I'm so happy you're okay, Rick. I really am." Gently, she ran her fingers over Sam's hair. "And if you want to talk about what happened, I'm here for you."_

" _Thank you."_

" _Mmm-hmm."_

 _ **Smaller than dust on this map lies the greatest thing we have:**_

 _ **The dirt in which our roots may grow and the right to call it home.**_

– – –

" _Our first case," Ceasar smirked like a cat._

" _It's not our first." Carol crossed her legs._

" _As detectives, it is."_

" _You're like a schoolgirl." She smiled though. "But I did squeal into my breakfast this morning. I think I may have scared the crap outta Sam."_

" _How is Sammy?"_

" _At school. He's nervous, but he made a friend yesterday. I don't know how I feel about this kid yet, but Sam seems to like him. They switched lunches. I accidentally gave Sam my tuna sandwich on wheat."_

 _"Is that why you gave me that ham and cheese sandwich randomly yesterday?_

 _"I don't like ham."_

 _"How do you not like ham?"_

 _"I just don't." She stood up. "All right, c'mon, we have work to do."_

 _"We'll talk about the ham later." He fell into step beside her._ " _I hope this case doesn't take long. I...have plans tonight."_

" _Plans?" She looked over her shoulder at him then turned to face him. "Ceasar, what plans?"_

 _He looked around then pulled her aside and pulled his phone out. "I didn't want to risk losing it, but I knew you'd ask, and I'm shit at keeping things that excite me secret." He showed her the picture of the engagement ring._

" _Holy shit, Ceasar."_

" _It cost me an arm and a leg, but it's going to be worth it. Andrea says doesn't care about this type of thing, but I know she does. I went ring shopping, and I would have asked you but Sam was sick, so I asked her sister Amy."_

" _It's beautiful, Ceasar. I'm sure she'll love it." She turned away from him._

" _What is it? You think it's ugly, don't you?" He looked over the ring. "She likes white gold, and I though the yellow was hideous. She doesn't..." He trailed off and walked around Carol. "Why are you crying?"_

" _You're getting engaged." She covered her mouth with her hand then hugged him. "My baby Ceasar is getting engaged! I am so happy for you! Congratulations!"_

 _He laughed at the name she used to call him when they were kids in that baby tone. "We don't even know if she'll—"_

" _Shut up! You know she will. You two are perfect for each other."_

 _He smiled. "I'm glad you think that."_

 _She released him. "You better call me once she answers, because I will be thoroughly upset if you call your mother first."_

" _I promise. I'll 3-way, if I have to."_

" _You'd better." She wiped the corners of her eyes and exhaled. "We have a crime scene to get to. Let's go."_

 _~Forty-eight Hours Later~_

 _Ceasar heaved into the corner of the room at the smell of rotting flesh, all of those eyes staring at him, the maggots rolling over each other, the beetles crawling, and all of them were feeding, nesting. He couldn't take the scent of it, and he couldn't get out. He could feel the air being sucked from the room, and he knew his phobia was catching up to him._

 _Christ, where was Carol?_

 _He pushed himself up and removed his tie, forcing himself forward. He had plans tonight. Tonight was the night he was going to ask Andrea Harrison to marry him, because their original plans were put off by this motherfucker. They thought they had caught him, but when they began to transfer him, the real shooter put one between his eyes as they led him toward the vehicle. The shooter didn't make a move for any of the officers, just the false killer. Fucker vanished without a trace. Carol called just when Andrea was ready to leave. She was probably at home in her dress working. Always working, he loved that about her._

 _Ceasar slammed his fist into the wall beside him and gritted his teeth. He would not die like this. He would not sit in a room and let this son of a bitch win. He would not these people simply be dead and their murderer run around free. He was going to get out of here, find Carol, lock away this asshole then go home and propose to the best damn woman he'd ever been in love with. He needed to find Carol. This sicko had it bad for her for some unknown reason, and Ceasar would back her up. He wouldn't let him do anything to her._

" _Martinez!" Carol called._

 _He looked around and spotted the edge of a vent in the far corner blocked the body of the woman who owned this building. "Williams."_

" _C'mon, hot shot."_

 _Together, they pried the vent off and Ceasar slipped through after her. They managed to return to where they were before gas filled the chamber and they both blacked out. Carol had been left in a room with her hands bound with her own handcuffs. Asshole didn't think she'd break her thumb to escape. His mistake. Hers too, but she was determined to catch him, make him pay for what he had done, the families he had tore apart. She wouldn't let him get away with this, even if that meant traveling to the end of the world to catch his ass._

" _You okay?" Ceasar noticed her grimace._

" _I'll live." She started for the door, but it burst open and lights shined on their faces, and they both groaned and blocked it with their hands. It was their backup._

 _Michonne made them both sit out searching the building for the shooter who was still unnamed. He had many aliases, but none of them existed before certain dates, or they were already dead. He was surprisingly good at what he did. He was a ghost, and he eluded them, leaving bodies and bullets and even a goddamn note behind, but not a single shred of evidence. They had nothing. Not a damn thing._

 _Carol went home to Sam, and Ceasar went home to Andrea. He was right about finding her working, but she was working_ his _case. She had all of the information he had on his laptop hanging from the walls, and she was studying them, so focused she didn't even hear him enter._

 _He looked at her—her red dress hugging her form, her once curled and pulled up blonde hair down and a curly, sexy mess, and her best pair of heels tossed on the couch like they were slippers. He walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her stomach, and he was damn lucky she didn't use any of her military hand-to-hand training her father insisted she get before moving to the city to chuck him over her shoulder and on the table._

" _Ceasar." She didn't turn. "You smell repulsive."_

" _I feel pretty repulsive."_

 _She smiled a little and leaned into him. "You didn't get him." It wasn't a question._

" _No."_

" _He's very intelligent. Or damn lucky."_

" _He's not lucky. I'm the one who's lucky." He held her tightly. "Andrea, all of my life I've kept going for my short term goals, struggling not to succumb to the offers out I've had, and I never knew why or what was keeping me here. My mom—no matter how much I love her—wasn't enough, and I hate myself for that. I hate that Carol wasn't enough. I hate that I still...have so much rage, that it's so difficult for me to trust anybody, and that...I have so many things so important to me that death can touch."_

" _Ceasar." Her voice was soft, and she could feel him shaking, on the verge of tears._

" _I lost my sister when I was thirteen, and ever since it's been hard for me to...go on. She was the best thing in the world to me. She was so smart and snarky, could talk her way out of anything, and I thought she was an asshole, but so pretty cool. She always had my back, always listened to me, helped me, protected me, and I couldn't do that for her. She was killed, and I couldn't save her. Carol couldn't save her. I never forgave myself for that..." She set her hands over his on her stomach, and he sniffed, trying to catch his breath. "Then...I met you while I working on a case. And I thought you hated me. You would not let me get one word in, and we were on the same side."_

" _You called me baby," she reminded him. "We weren't in Criminal Minds, and it instantly pissed me off. You haven't called me that since."_

" _I learned my lesson." He rested his forehead on her soft curls. "I don't know what I'll do without you in my life, Andrea. You've healed so many of my scars...and I love you with my entire heart, and I want to marry you."_

" _Why do I hear a but in there?" Tears filled her eyes, and she really hoped he didn't add more._

" _But I lost the ring."_

 _She turned to face him now and gripped his cheeks. "I don't give a damn about a beautiful diamond ring, you idiot. I told you that, and I meant it. All I care about is you, and I will marry you any day of the week, in any weather, in any clothes. I don't care, just as long as its you." She kissed him._

 _He smiled. "I love you too, and when I say I lost the ring...I really mean we're poor as shit now."_

 _She laughed. "Well, then I have news about that." She stepped back and pointed to the table where his jacket was. "You left this here, and I felt a box in the pocket. I didn't look. I swear."_

 _He stared at the jacket then hurried over and searched the pocket, finding the black box, and he chuckled to himself. "I forgot to take it with me." Thank God. It would have killed him knowing he spent that much money only to lose it. He removed the ring and walked to Andrea and got down on one knee. "Andrea Harrison, will you marry me?"_

 _She lowered herself down onto her knees and met his eyes. "Yes."_

 _He slipped the ring onto her finger and kissed her deeply, encircling her waist, and she pulled back._

" _I love you, and I want to make tonight special, but for the love of God, shower."_

 _He laughed. "All right."_

 _She looked at him with such love, and she smiled his favorite that showed all of her teeth, and she kissed him once more before sending him to shower._

––

 _Carol found Rick and Sam on the couch, watching the news, and Carol was about to chew Rick out, because a nine-year-old should not be learning about all the horrifying things that sicko had down there, but Sam ran over and hugged her._

" _I'm so glad you're safe."_

 _She kissed the top of his head. "I'm fine, baby. You should be in bed."_

" _He wouldn't sleep till you got home," Rick informed her._

" _Well, I'm home now, so go brush your teeth." She let him go. "You can sleep with me tonight."_

 _"Okay." He nodded and left to brush his teeth._

" _Don't be mad about the news." Rick said once their son was gone._

" _I am mad, but...it won't change what he saw." She dropped down onto the couch. "I need alcohol."_

" _Can't help you there."_

" _Too bad." She rolled her head to the side to look at him. "How long were you here?"_

" _Most of the day. I had some time off, thought Sam and I could hang out." He shifted on the couch. "How are you, Carol? They told us what was down there. You had to have seen."_

" _I'll survive. I have some meds to help me sleep, so I'll be fine." She shrugged. "And we made it out, so I'm happy about that. I just wish we'd have caught him."_

" _Next time." He set a hand on her shoulder. "You'll get him."_

" _Thanks." She smiled a little. "And thanks for keeping him company. He's missed you lately. What gives?"_

" _Well..." He removed his hand. "I'm dating someone."_

" _Oh? That's great. Who?"_

" _Lori. You met her at the hospital when Sam was five."_

" _Yeah, tall, skinny, hates me."_

" _She doesn't hate you."_

" _I'm the mother of your child. She isn't fond of me."_

" _She just doesn't know you. She...wants you and Sam to come over for supper one night. She's a decent cook, and she wants to know you both."_

" _I don't know."_

" _Carol, please. It's just one night, and if you don't like her, I'll never ask you to deal with her again."_

" _It's weird, Rick."_

" _It'll always be weird. We can make it...not weird if you try. Please, you and Sam are important to me, and she's trying."_

" _All right. Fine, but if she can't cook, you owe me dinner."_

" _Now that's weird."_

" _Who said you were invited?" She smirked._

" _So, pizza?"_

" _Ugh, gross. I've had enough pizza." She hopped up. "I need a shower and a heating pad."_

" _Carol?"_

" _What?" She faced him._

" _Could I stay over with y'all? Just...for old time's sake. He's been shaking for most of the night, and I want to make sure he's all right. I want to make sure you're all right too."_

" _That'd be nice."_

 _He smiled at her. "Thanks."_

" _Don't thank me. Find my heating pad, please. I'm gonna shower." She strolled down the hall as Sam finished brushing his teeth the bathroom, and she told him Rick was staying over and to grab the extra blankets from the hall closet before she slipped into the shower. She had bruises all over and a broken thumb, but she was alive. And she would arrest that snake if it was the last thing she did._

– – –

"How are they?" Carol closed the lid to her dinner for tomorrow. She had a meeting with a "friend" who might be doing some illegal hacking into someone's computer to find out about a certain child. Ceasar knew a guy who owned him a favor, and Carol had to know why she watching Mika, if Lizzie was more than just "grieving". If Lizzie was a threat to Mika, she wanted to know. She had to know. Ryan barely left those two little girls alone in the same room, so something was up, and if Carol knew what, she could prod Ryan into telling her. If it was what she was thinking, she knew people who could help. Stookey might be great and all, but Carol wanted him to know there were other options, closer options. She wanted to do all she could to help Lizzie and Ryan.

"Asleep, finally," she joked. "And healthy. Happy."

"That's good. I haven't called in far too long." She put the container in the fridge, glad that she had acted on her urge to call her old friend. "How's the husband?"

"A lazy lug."

"You love him more than anything, Lori."

"I know, but he is." She sighed. "He's so proud of Judy going into first grade. They have a song they're going to sing, and I've worked with the teacher, and it is just precious. You have to come and see her. Carl would love to see you."

"I don't know if I'll have time, but I'll try. E-mail me the date, and I'll try my best to come out and see you guys. I'll even make you dinner. Unless you've improved."

"I have! I can even make proper pancakes. Sort of. Anyway I hope to see you then. I have to go now, because I just heard a flashlight click. Carl's reading comics at night again. I'll e-mail you tomorrow. I love you. Goodbye."

"Me too. Bye." She hung up and set the phone down, heading to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She changed into her nightclothes and lied down, setting her alarm. She had a lot of things to do tomorrow, and she needed sleep. She was exhausted already. It had been a very...long day with Keira's questions. Sweet girl, although she didn't know how rough it was to answer each question. Hmm.

Rolling over in a deep sleep, Carol was unaware of the men who had skillfully picked the lock to her front door and were in the room with her now, and oh so carefully, one leaned over and slipped a needle into her neck, ensuring she would be unconscious the entire ride. Where they were taking her, they needed her unconscious. They were told she was fighter, which they needed, but not until she agreed to work with them.

– – –

Plush sheets, sunlight, the scent of breakfast foods, fresh flowers, coffee and the sound of dog tags rustling. Carol's vision was blurry when she came to, shooting up as the bed and room were not hers, and she saw a tray of food beside her with a note. She grabbed the fork from the tray and crept over to the double doors. She listened, hearing hushed whispers, and she took a deep breath in before yanking the doors open.

She locked eyes with a man she had seen many times before but was never able to capture. He was someone who dabbled in both drugs and likely murder, and she was going to enjoy taking him in. He had no right to kidnap her, and she would give him hell.

Carol Williams stood less than ten feet away from the Archer.


	8. My Word I Give To You

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

She gripped the fork, letting him know she could undoubtedly use it as a weapon, and he simply watched her as she scanned the place, looking for an easy way out. Carol still wore her nightclothes, and she didn't at all feel sore. She also hadn't been bound or gagged. Though judging from how shaky she felt, she had been drugged. They must have picked the lock to her apartment, slipped a needle into her neck and carried her down the stairs since most people used the damn elevator. For them to know that, they would have been watching her place. Possibly even had ridden the elevator with her. Rarely did anybody use the stairs. Only her and one of her elderly neighbors, but he couldn't possibly work for them.

Thinking back to the many faces she'd seen in the elevator, she started to remember a few that didn't match, that hadn't been there for very long, and she narrowed her eyes at the Archer. He had been planning this for a months. Years, possibly. Why? What did he want from her? He hadn't harmed her yet, thus he wasn't planning on harming her now. Or maybe she was wrong and he wanted her to be conscious. He only let her be unshackled to give her a sense of security. Perhaps he took pleasure in that.

"I won't hurt you," he spoke to her, seeing her running through the possibilities. Her eyes gave away nothing, but her body language was screaming at him. The body language and the fork. It was understandable. He'd do the same thing, only he'd have taken the tray and knocked his captor out with it. Or broken the bowl and used a pillowcase to keep from cutting himself and use it as a weapon. Or even the leg to one of the chairs. There were many things that could be made into weapons, and in his line of work, he always needed to make sure that he could throw together makeshift weapon nearby if he was disarmed.

"Tell that to someone you didn't abduct from their home after sedating them," she retorted.

"It was just something to keep you asleep. I didn't wanna risk them hurting you, or you hurting them." He lowered his gaze to the fork. "Clearly the right call."

"What do you want? A compliment on not killing me?"

"Nah, just a gold sticker." He smirked, and she glared more. "Down to business, I like that. Truth is...I need your help, Williams."

"Help? Well, you got off on the wrong foot. See, normal people just call or stop by the station."

"I ain't exactly a "normal person"." He stepped back. "I need _your_ specific help."

"For what?" She didn't lower her guard, just crossed her arms and kept a close eye on him.

"C'mon." He entered the bedroom she had slept him and plopped down in a chair, helping himself to the food left for her. Shit, all he'd done since his men left to obtain Carol was stress eat. He'd gone through three packs of a cigarettes in almost two days. He couldn't keep still. God, he hoped she was agreeable. If she wasn't, he had no fucking idea what he was going to do. She was the best, and he needed the best for this. "Hungry?"

"Yeah, I'm hungry for an explanation." She stood at the foot of the bed, seeing his two of men in the corner of her eye. "So, go on."

He picked meat out of his teeth and met her eyes. "You know the Governor, right?"

"Of New York?"

He snorted. "No, the asshole who's bringin' in shit your people can't track. The motherfucker who blew up an entire apartment complex to weed out a mole. I think it was one of yours too."

She clenched her jaw. "I know him. Sort of."

"Everybody "sort of" knows him." He cleared his throat. "I need to take him down. I can't—do it legally. I'd get myself caught up in that mess, and I can't afford to spend time in prison."

"So you kidnapped a cop?" Carol sounded amused, and she was smirking. "That's a good first step to going to prison. I fully intend to take your ass there, Archer."

He made a face. "Archer? Shit, call me by my name."

"Because I can read your mind."

"Daryl." He picked at a biscuit. "My name's Daryl, Carol."

"It'll be good to know for the forms I'll have to fill out when I arrest you."

"Would you just sit down and let me explain the situation to you?"

"The situation is that you took me from my apartment after you drugged me and are keeping me in this place against my will. Do you have any idea how much tr—?"

"He took my kid," Daryl interrupted her, and Carol's mouth dried up. "And yeah, I know how much trouble I'm in, Detective, but do I give a shit? For her, hell no." He rose. "I just want my daughter back from that sick son of a bitch, and I need your help. You're the only detective in this whole goddamn city who can get her back to me in one piece."

"You have a child?"

"Yeah, a ten-year-old." He searched her eyes. "Dwell on that instead of your threats, 'cause she was taken from school yesterday. Figure the time, Carol. The clock's runnin' out." He huffed at the expression she made, like she didn't believe him. "If you don't believe me, just go walk around. Her face, her toys, her drawings are everywhere. Be my guest." He walked out of the room.

She turned to find the young man who was folding laundry and fighting with his girlfriend behind her, and he gave her a small nod along with a smile. She scoffed and tossed the fork onto the bed. She exited the room, the young man showed her to Daryl's daughter's room, and she paused outside the door. She didn't want to believe this. She didn't know the Governor's work all that well, but he was ruthless. He wouldn't hesitate to kill somebody, and a child would be no different. He wouldn't hesitate to do abhorrent things to her to get to Daryl. He'd done many heinous things to people who cross him or people who try to stop him. She'd never been on one of his cases, but Shepard had been and still was.

About four years ago, Shepard and her partner were close to finding him or perhaps it was his stash. One of the two. Anyway, Shepard made it out with four broken ribs, a broken arm, leg and internal bleeding. Her partner wasn't seen whole again, though by the blood coating the walls and ceiling of his apartment, it wasn't hard to guess what became of him. A few days after Shepard was discharged from the hospital, his torso was outside her apartment and a trail of his body parts guiding her through her apartment to a lovely warning shoved into his severed head on her bed—his calling card, like a thief who leaves a rose for every stolen item. The entire place was spotless. Not a finger print that wasn't hers, not a drop of blood that wasn't her partner's. He had come and gone without a single person or camera catching him. He was a blood lusting vampire that moved like a ghost.

That day, it was Halloween. Nobody in her apartment building thought the torso was real. It didn't have a smell yet, and Shepard had always gone all out on Halloween. Now she stayed in with her dogs, hunting for clues that could lead her to the Governor. She was more dedicated than ever, however he was more determined than ever. He fell off the radar a year later. He hadn't made himself known at all since, so why kidnap a child? What did he want from the Archer? What did Daryl have on him?

Unless he didn't, and it was just a rouse to get her to lower her guard so he could kill her. That possibility shouldn't be off the table simply because he was being polite.

"Go inside," the young man beckoned. "You...need to see."

"See what?" She rolled her head to the side to leer at him. "To see that I'm being held by a drug lord? Or that this is all some bullshit game to get me killed? Did I step on someone's toes? Arrest a girlfriend? Just tell me so I can be prepared for whoever's waiting inside for me."

The young man reached over and opened the door for her, staring her in the eyes. "His kid is lovely. We're friends. I'm older than her, but...still closer to her age than anybody else here." He looked brokenhearted. "She doesn't deserve what he'll do to her, so make up your mind. Leave or stay, just let us know, because every second you waste is a second she inches closer to death."

Carol could see the emotion in his eyes. He loved this girl. She was like family to him, like Ceasar and Karen and Gloria were to her. Andrea and Keira as well. She shifted her eyes from his to the room, her throat closing up, and she stepped inside.

It was a beautiful, lavishing, expensive bedroom for a ten-year-old. The white and lavender canopy bed that had a cushioned headboard with the child's initials sewn in and a hundred stuffed animals that spilled onto the floor. A desk sat pushed against the wall by the window, pens and pencils and extra notepads rested on top. He had just bought them for her. They were still in their packages. They were a gift—one she may never received. A sofa sat across from the desk with bags of new clothes. Another gift. The room had many bookshelves, filled with more books than movies, and she could tell Daryl often read with her. There were many pictures to prove it. Her mother must have taken them.

Exhaling, Carol noted the floor was covered with plush carpet and misplaced books, though they weren't done by the child. She suspected Daryl had been pacing in here, waiting for his men to bring her here.

The walls were filled with pictures of them, both so smiley and joyous, and she noticed a pattern. There were ten frames on one wall that started with Daryl holding her as a baby and went to them posing side by side now. It must be a tradition of theirs. She looked very happy, and he looked at her with such love. She was very important to him. Perhaps all he had in the entire world, and she had been taken by a cruel man who would kill her without blinking.

If she was taken as leverage then she would still be alive. He could want Daryl to stop his...trade. He could want to be the sole drug and...goods importer here. Daryl wouldn't back down unless he had something Daryl loved and would do anything for. There were no pictures of a spouse or a woman who could be the mother in the pictures on the walls, so either the Governor had already killed her, or Daryl was raising his daughter himself and left the Governor no other option. Or maybe she wasn't in the child's life at all. That didn't matter. All that did was this girl. She was taken, because she's the only important thing in Daryl's life. He would do just about anything the Governor wanted.

Turning, Carol met the young man's eyes, and she said one sentence: "Take me to him."

––

Daryl sat in his bedroom, rubbing the back of his neck and viewing the footage his tech had salvaged from the cameras around his daughter's school. He tossed the tablet on to the couch and rose, pacing. He had no idea where that son of a bitch was. He had his men out patrolling, trying to find any information on him, but they were coming up empty. Of course they were. He had been planning this for years. He disappeared when Daryl and Merle almost caught up to him. He was the fucking best at vanishing, but Daryl was the fucking best at finding people.

He tensed suddenly and spun around to find Carol Williams in the door way, face guarded, arms folded over her chest. He didn't even want to consider what she was going to say. He had picked her out of many. He hoped his gut was right, but who the hell knew anymore. Luck wasn't on his side, so why would she be?

"Have you made up your mind?"

"Would you let me go if I just said no?" Carol asked.

"Yeah. I ain't in the business of holding people hostage. Unlike some." He grasped a pack of cigarettes and dug one out, offering her one.

"No, thank you."

"You can leave here right now." He lit the cigarette. "I'd have to drive you home, but you'd get home. I meant what I said, Detective. I won't hurt you. I don't kill people. I just want to raise my daughter."

"Don't kill people?" She scoffed. "Then why the armed men? Why the drugs? You can raise your daughter outside of all this."

"I can?" He blew smoke at her. "Holy shit, why didn't I think of that?"

"Are you going to stop being such an ass?"

"Do you think I can just walk away?" He rubbed his chin, sitting on the couch of the nearby couch. "Think I can just pack a bag and slip away? You think it'd be that easy?"

"It's always a possibility."

"Not for me." He took a long drag. "You never answered me."

"Yes, but let me get one thing straight: I'm not helping you," she announced. "I'm helping your daughter. That's it. I am only in it for her. Once she is saved, Archer, your ass is mine."

He chuckled. "We'll see, Detective."

"Let's get this over with. Time's running out, you said?"

"Likely." He retrieved the tablet.

"Likely? You told me to figure the time. I assume he called you, set up a ransom?"

"No, he ain't called." He held out the tablet. "He likes games, Detective. He wants me to figure this out, so he can get me alone and kill me then her. He doesn't want me to walk away unharmed. He wants me dead. Dead people can't take back their word."

She accepted the tablet and looked over the footage. "Wow, this is a mess."

"Kid did the best he could." He searched her face. "You got someone better?"

"I do." She lifted her eyes. "I can get your daughter back soon, but only if you let me bring in a few more officers."

"No." He snatched back the tablet. "Just you. I don't need more cops in this place. It was hard enough to get you, and you were easy pickings."

"Excuse me?"

"You live alone with no alarm system in a building with shitty, old cameras—easy pickings." He crushed the cigarette out. "But if I get more cops in here, he'll know. He'll hurt her, and I won't let anybody hurt her, so it's just you and me and my people, all right? You're gonna have to make due."

"Fine, but I have a job. I have a life! You can't just keep me here until we find your daughter."

"I can. Will."

"You said I could leave."

"That was _before_ you accepted. You can't go until we find her. It shouldn't take long. I mean, you're a damn fine cop. You found that Greene kid. You can find my daughter."

"I had help to find Beth Greene! I had a tech and my partner! I had leads and—and a suspect."

"You got leads and a suspect!"

"I have accusations! Your footage doesn't even show her getting taken! It just shows a black car! I need more to go on! I can't pull information out of my ass, Archer!"

"What do you think's in that black car? My kid!"

"How do I know she's not with her birth mother? How do I know I'm not helping you kidnap her?"

"Her mom's dead," he informed her. "And she didn't even want her. She left her to the system. I didn't even find out she was having my kid until Axel told me. I have sole custody. I'm the only parent in her life. In my line of work, it's best to be alone." Sophia was the only exception to that. He couldn't abandoned her, no matter how dangerous his lifestyle was, no matter how much better and safer her life could have been with foster parents. She was his daughter, and he would be there for her no matter what.

"I don't believe you."

"You wanna fight me? My kid is out there with a sadist asshole who leaves severed heads lying around, and you wanna fight with me? Why would I lie? I already kidnapped you. I did that for a reason, and this is it. So either help me from this second on or get the hell out of my house."

She could see he was genuine. She needed to push him. She needed to see his raw emotions, and she had. He didn't speak much, but his eyes and body language were quite revealing. She knew now without a shadow of a doubt that this was real. She needed to focus. This was a little girl in the hands of a twisted, homicidal bastard. She needed to be at her best. Right now. There was no turning back. Turning back meant death for this girl. Carol wouldn't let her die. She would sooner give up her own life than to lose that little girl.

"I'm going to help her. I'll do everything I can, and I'll die trying to bring her back to you, if it comes to that. You have my word."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me until we have her." She paused and locked eyes with him. "Get this straight, Archer. I'm not your friend. I don't trust you. I don't even like you. I'm only here for that little girl, all right? The second we have her back, our partnership is done."

"Already told me that. I got it memorized." He tapped his temple, and she arched a brow in annoyance.

"Good. Show me what you have on him."

"I'll get Noah. He's a smart kid."

"Noah?" _Bridges?_

"Yeah, the kid who took you to my daughter's room." He was their tech guy. He wasn't really involved too deep. Daryl knew his parents, and they couldn't afford college, so Daryl was paying for it and the kid did them a few favors to pay him back. Big Tiny watched out for the kid, and they made sure nothing happened to him. Daryl kept his men safe, and he never went back on his word.

"Oh."

"Erm, go change."

"Into what?"

"These." A woman spoke from behind them, holding two bags shopping bags in her hands. "Come with me, please."

"You're safe here," Daryl reached over and clasped her forearm, sensing her hesitation. "My people won't hurt you."

"Yeah, tell that to the needle mark in my throat." She followed the woman, jerking away from him.

He smiled a little, feeling more hope than he had when Big Tiny called to tell him Sophia had been taken out of school early by a dark-haired white woman. The only woman in his crew was black. She wasn't even in his crew. She knew Daryl helped her dad out, so she came now and then to patch them up. Her and her doctor boyfriend.

––

The woman had left Carol alone to change in the rooms she had woken up in, Carol scoffed at the correct sizes in the bags, and she changed in to the clothes they'd purchased. A long-sleeved blue silk shirt, black jeans and knee-high dark brown boots. She had this exact outfit in her closet, only without the silk blouse. He had been watching her too long for this to just be for his kid. There was something else going on here. There had to be.

She spotted a knife in the bottom of the bag. It was for her as well. A black and silver military warrior tanto with a knuckle guard—Ceasar had a knife phase as a teenager, he wanted to be protected, and guns...were too fatal for him. She was impressed that he trusted her to have a weapon. Surely, he'd give her a gun, because this would only be useful at close range. Exactly how close was Daryl planning to get to the Governor? She'd find out. She'd given him her word, and she'd do whatever it took to recover the child. She didn't want anybody to feel the pain of losing a child. Not even a criminal like the Archer.

She exited the room and was guided down the hall to a personal library, and she wanted to roll her eyes when a hidden room was revealed by pulling back a book. What else was in store? She followed him inside and found herself in a cold, metal meeting room that doubled as an armory. Holy shit. There were more rooms in the back, doors that led to places that most likely stored drugs or worse. She didn't know what else they would use it for. A nice, family game room? A bloody torture room?

"These are my people," Daryl introduced them. "Axel, Big Tiny, Noah, Abraham and Oscar. They'll be our backup."

"So am I." A deep voice said from behind them.

Carol tilted her head at the voice. "And who are you?"

"It's my brother," Daryl answered. "Merle."

"Great." Carol joined his men, peering back as Merle chewed Daryl out. They weren't close brothers, it seemed. She gave her attention to Noah, who had all the information about the Governor. Well, not all, but all that they knew and could confirm.

"Why didn't you tell me 'bout them nabbing my niece?" Merle hissed.

"You were busy—"

"I'm never too busy for blood."

"I already got help," Daryl informed him. "And I don't want this to turn into a blood bath. You're too damn brazen, and Carol's...professional. She'll get Sophia back."

"Tsh, yeah. Then the kid's off to the foster care when she arrests you."

"Maybe not."

"That's an awful big maybe, brother."

"She's good," Daryl insisted. "I—I've been keeping tabs on her, just in case something happened to any of us. She'll get Sophia back. And...when she does, we're out. I can risk myself for you, brother, but not her. Not after this."

"Let's just get her back."

"No." Daryl set a hand on Merle's chest. "I got this."

"What? You ain't gonna let me help?"

"You know the truth," he whispered. "You. You'll just provoke him, and that's the last thing I need. Stay out of this, Merle, for Sophia's sake. For mine too. Please."

He clenched his jaw. "Fine, but if you make one fuck-up, I'm gonna take over."

"Understood."

Merle checked out the woman Daryl had brought in and shook his head. "She'd better be a good as you hope she is."

"She is."

"Then you got nothing to worry about." He ducked out of the room and called in a favor. No fucking way was he staying out of it. He'd give Daryl his little twenty-four hours to play with the detective, but that was all. This shit was real and dangerous. He was going to take care of that fucker once and for all. Nobody messed with his family. No-fucking-body.

"You did what?" Carol exclaimed at the Archer.

"We...just wanted to make sure your job knew you weren't available. We can't afford for them to interfere," Noah explained. "If cops start poking around...it's bad for all of us."

"Well, congrats, you just raised a lovely red flag," Carol informed them. "I _never_ go on vacation! You dumbasses." She turned and hurried out of the room, and Daryl followed. "What all did you do?"

"We told your boss that you went on vacation, to the Bahamas, via e-mail. We even bought a ticket in your name. You "leave" this morning. How did we raise a red flag?"

"Because they know that if I were to take a vacation, Hell would be frozen. The only vacation I have planned isn't for weeks. Shit, Archer, you put the entire station in red alert. Good job."

"Thought you were normal. My mistake."

"Tsh. Just give me a phone, and I'll clean this mess up."

"Through here." He cut her off before she reached the phone however. "I need to know you won't tip them off."

"I won't. I gave you my word. I won't tip them off, but if you don't move, my partner will raise hell. He's a good detective, just like me. He'll figure this out eventually, and I _will not_ put him and his family at risk."

He moved, and she called Michonne's cell phone directly, but she didn't pick up. It went to voicemail. Carol closed her eyes and cursed. Ceasar had heard already. He was supposed to be in the hospital. Guess Michonne called him to confirm, and Carol had been very specific about her leaving to take care of Mika. Son of a bitch.

"Does the Governor have any moles in the NYPD?"

"Probably."

"Then we need to hurry." If the Governor caught wind of this, his kid was dead already.

– – –

"She wouldn't take a vacation," Ceasar growled. "Somebody got to her."

"She was leaving to take care of Mika Samuels in a few weeks."

"A few weeks being the key words there."

Michonne just sighed. "She's not in danger, Ceasar. She just needed a few days off. You're not supposed to be out of bed, so I suggest you go home and rest."

"I'll rest when I find her."

Michonne watched him storm out, and she shook her head. She would leave it to him. He would raise hell on his own anyway. She could look into it silently. Carol didn't vacation, so something _did_ happen. She wanted to keep it quiet, so hopefully Andrea could talk Ceasar down. She was the only one who could at this point.

If Carol was in trouble, they would find out. They would get her out. It's what they did.


	9. Well, Shit

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

"So, you have no idea where he lives? Or where he might have taken your daughter?" Carol looked over the pictures of the men that worked for the Governor.

"No. I know a few of his guys, but they'd rather die than tell us."

"We can't be brutes about this, and I won't let you be. We need to get them to open up. What do you know about these few? Anything?"

"A bit." Daryl gestured to the pictures. "His closest men are Tomas, Andrew, Joe, Crowley and Shumpert. He has a few others, but these are the only ones we've either ran in to or heard about."

"I know Tomas," Carol murmured. "He's a son of a bitch, thinks he owns anything that he's sat or pissed on. I've arrested him a few times."

"How many is a few?" Abraham asked.

"Ten." She shrugged. "Now I know why he managed to get out so easily." She only managed to get him once, and that was years ago, around the time of the second or maybe third arrest. It would appear he'd been promoted since then.

"Well, he isn't gonna be a fan of yours." Daryl tucked his hands under his armpits. "Let's hope you two don't run into each other."

"Don't worry. I'm good at being invisible."

Noah hid a smile at the look Carol flashed at Daryl and the way his brows rose then felt someone nudge him, and he cleared his throat. "So, I've located at least two of them. Crowley and Andrew."

"Let's go find them."

"Not so fast," Daryl stopped her with his words. "We have a problem."

"And that problem is?"

"We ain't ever gonna get them to talk to us. All they're gonna to do is just try to turn us Swiss cheese."

She thought for a second then inquired, "Andrew? You said you found him too?"

"Yeah." Noah nodded.

"I know him through Tomas. He has a kid. One that I can threaten to have taken away." Daryl looked at her with narrow eyes. "It's a threat, not a promise. I've met the mother. I wouldn't hurt her in any way."

"It's worth a shot," Axel commented. "We don't have any other lead."

"Put on your game face," Carol instructed, hoping it was better and not so easily changed than the ones she'd seen. "Let's go."

"Abe, Oscar." Daryl nodded his head at him. "BT, I need you to get my bag. Axel, Noah, I want y'all to stay here, keep an eye on things."

"I'll keep an eye on your brother," Noah uttered under his breath to Daryl as he passed him.

"Good idea." Merle wasn't going to stay out of it, so they needed to keep him close. "I'll get the car. We'll head out in a sec."

"I'll be waiting." Carol strolled out of the room behind Noah.

Daryl stayed back and waited for BT to return then he thanked him and shouldered the bag. He headed to the garage, digging through it, and Carol was standing by the door. He grasped her arm, pushing her sleeve back, and she tried to jerk back, but he only tightened his grip. He injected something into her.

"What the hell?" She groaned when something sharp stabbed into her skin.

"It's a tracker." Daryl rubbed his thumb gently over the mark, meeting her eyes. "If this all goes to hell, I don't want you to get left behind in the wreckage. Noah will a message to your partner, the hell-raiser. He'll get the coordinates, and he'll come get you."

"You should learn to ask for permission." She glared, pulling her arm free. "I don't need your help."

"Too bad. I take care of people who work with or for me. You're workin' with me so deal with it. I'm gonna keep you safe."

"Well, I don't need protecting. I've been in worse situations, and honestly dying isn't the scary part."

"Then what is?"

She met his eyes. "Living with what you had to do."

––

Oscar and Abe were in the front and driver seats, Daryl had given Carol a gun that was concealable, and he kept looking her over and wondering what she had done in her past. She didn't seem to care enough to tell him to stop, and he wondered just how much she didn't care. He truly hoped he hadn't gotten the aid of a suicidal detective. He couldn't be sure. She looked so empty as she gazed out the window, yet there were embers behind those big, blue eyes. He wanted to know what would set them aflame.

Carol shifted in her seat and glanced over at the Archer as he pulled out a crossbow. She had seen this before. It was a calling card. Whenever something went down and they went to investigate, there would be a shaky victim and an bolt lodged somewhere. It's how he got the name "Archer". Funny though, for someone who dealt in drugs, never once was there a body involved with the Archer. There were plenty for the Governor, but not one for the Archer. Well, not one that she knew of. There were plenty of ways to dispatch a body. And he appeared to be pretty crafty.

They arrived at Andrew's home, but nobody was there. The lights were off, the driveway vacant, and from watching for the last ten minutes, it was obvious he had been out most, if not all, day. They would just have to wait for him. Oscar and Abraham had gone on to check out the house, leaving Carol and Daryl behind.

"Why a cop?" Daryl picked at a bolt with his thumbnail.

"None of your business."

"We're gonna be together for some time, might help to get to know each other."

"Help what?"

"Be less antagonistic."

"And then what? I'll braid your hair and share secrets about my life? No, thank you. Let's just find your kid and get this over with. And know that when this is over, I'll be taking you in."

"Really? You're gonna help me get my kid just to take me away?"

"Yep." She could see him shaking his head from the corner of her eye. "Daryl, I'm a cop. What else did you think I was going to do? This isn't a book or a movie; you can't choose how it'll end. I have to do what I have to do."

"Yeah, me too, which is why you won't get the chance."

"We'll see."

There was a knock on the window, Daryl stepped out of the car and spoke with Abraham, and Carol saw a small blade in Daryl's bag. She reached over and took it, pushing it deep into her boot. It was sharp, but her pant leg prevented it from cutting her. She might need this later. If Daryl did intend to escape then she might be meeting a deep six end. She wasn't going to let that happen. The tracker could be used for Ceasar to find her, or for Daryl to.

Daryl called to her, and she exited the car and he pulled her around to his side. "He's on his way."

"Stop grabbing me. I am perfectly capable of walking."

"Habit."

"Of grabbing women?"

"Of making sure nobody gets left behind."

"Where do you want to meet him?" Carol changed the subject. "I suggest we meet him at his car."

"Good idea. We don't know what kind of weapons he's got with him, and I don't want to be met with a shotgun. Oscar and Abe will wait here—close enough to hear a gun, but far enough away to not be seen."

Oscar leaned against the car, Abe sat in the driver's seat, smoking a cigar, and Daryl fell in to step beside Carol. He glanced back at his men briefly then blew out a sigh, and Carol grabbed the front of his shirt when they were out of sight and slammed him against the house, starling him only a little.

"What was that?" she demanded.

"What was what?"

"That look."

"Concern?"

"Likely."

"What? You think I'm gonna kill you?"

"Kidnappers tend to do that."

"It isn't like that! These men are my family, and I don't want them to end up dead. Every day could be the last day I see them." They stared into each other's eyes for long time, Daryl could see Andrew's car getting closer, and he wasn't entirely sure she was going to let him go in time. They were going to be seen, and this plan was going to be a bust. She needed to back down. "He's coming."

She released him. "Let's get this over with."

"Yeah." He fixed his collar. "Would it kill you to trust me?"

"The very second I lower my guard, I could meet a knife in my back." She moved into position, out of sight, and he stood behind her.

"I gave you my word."

"The word of a criminal."

"Everybody has a code."

"I'm sure." She checked on Andrew. "He's about to park."

"If we're gonna do this, you need to trust me."

"Do you trust me?" she snapped. "Honestly? If we walked into a gun fight, and you only had me to watch your back, would you? Would you trust me to keep you safe and get you out of there without even looking or speaking a word to me?"

He didn't answer, his eyes in hers, and she let out a small sound that told him she had her answer.

"Come on." She crossed the yard over to Andrew while he checked his truck for something, and she grabbed the knife Daryl had given her.

Daryl intercepted her and slammed Andrew into the car, causing the bag he was holding to fall to the ground beside their feet, and Carol let Daryl handle this for the moment. This was his turf, and he knew these men. He may know how to push Andrew's buttons better than she. They might get results sooner if he led this.

"What the hell?" He looked at Daryl then Carol and smiled a little. "The Archer and his bitch."

Daryl pressed his arm into Andrew's collarbone at him calling Carol a bitch, and Andrew let out an uncomfortable groan. "You know why we're here."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Where is she?"

"She?" Andrew looked curiously at Daryl. "The only she whose location I know is the woman next to you."

"Don't—test—me," Daryl growled. "Where is my daughter?"

"You have a kid? I didn't even know. Does she have your eyes?"

Daryl added more pressure, and Andrew gagged. "Don't fuck with me."

He smirked. "If I did know anything, I'd sooner die than tell you."

"That's a possibility."

Carol gave Daryl a look that said: _No, it's not!_

He glanced at her and returned with an eye roll. "Tell me or—"

"—or I get a bolt in the ass?"

"Or we go visit your little girl and her mother," Carol corrected. "How old is she now? Three years old? Almost four?"

Andrew paled.

"Does she still live in that apartment with her mother? The one—?"

"Would you really stoop so low?" Andrew growled then really have a once-over and snorted. "You're a cop. You're just bluffing!"

"What makes you think I'm a cop?"

"The way you stand, the air about you," he spoke through clenched teeth, "the way your eyes are, all fierce and shit. Tsh, you might as well have it tattooed on your forehead."

"Then tell me what we need to know, because you know I can have her taken away from you in a heartbeat. Don't make me do that."

He just chuckled and spoke to Daryl, "That's how you never get caught, eh? You're fuckin' one of 'em. I hope she was worth it, you son of a bitch."

"Watch your tongue," Daryl hissed.

"Or what? She's a cop! You won't hurt me. She won't let you. She holds your leash."

Daryl and Andrew exchanged words, and Carol narrowed her eyes. She could hear something in his tone; it grew louder with each word he spat at Daryl, and it wasn't fear. From the very beginning of the conversation, it was never fear. It was...confidence. It was superiority. He knew something that gave him the upper hand. No, no, it wasn't simply knowing. Knowing wouldn't given him that tone, that look. It was something else. Something that was bad for Carol and Daryl. This was a set-up.

"Daryl." Carol grasped his forearm to get his attention. "We need to go."

"Go?" He held Andrew in place but his body mostly faced her. "What the hell are you talking about? We need to know where the Gov is. We need to know where he's keeping my daughter."

"We need to go." She locked eyes with him. " _Trust me_."

He released Andrew and backed away, taking a hold on Carol's forearm, but it was too late. While they were interrogating Andrew, a local small fish had closed in on them. He had two men take out Oscar and Abe, however Carol and Daryl were very valuable alive. So when they both felt that sharp sting on their backs, they knew it wasn't a bullet but a tranquiler dart. And as the world went black, the last thing visible were the men closing in on them.

– – –

 _"She is."_

 _"Then you got nothing to worry about." Merle ducked out of the room and called in a favor. No fucking way was he staying out of it. He'd give Daryl his little twenty-four hours to play with the detective, but that was all. This shit was real and dangerous. He was going to take care of that fucker once and for all. Nobody messed with his family. No-fucking-body._

 _"What can I do for you?" Gareth asked, knowing something had to be wrong for Merle to be calling him._

 _"I need a favor."_

 _"What can a small fish like me do for a shark like you?"_

 _"I need you to find somebody."_

 _"This isn't as simple as finding somebody; you can do that yourself. Who exactly am I locating, Merle?"_

 _"The Governor."_

 _He laughed then realized this was serious. "Oh, fuck! You're serious. You—you want me to look for that sick son of a bitch? Are you fucking nuts? Do you know what he could do to me?"_

 _"He don't even know you exist."_

 _"He will if I dig into him. This is a suicide mission, and you fuckin' know it."_

 _"After all I've done to save your ass, you're gonna do this."_

 _He heaved a long, exasperated sigh. "Fuck." He dragged a hand down his face. "All right. Give me a couple days—"_

 _"No, you have until tomorrow morning."_

 _"Tomor—tomorrow morning? Christ, I'm good but not a damn miracle worker."_

 _"Well then you'd best get to work." He hung up._

 _Gareth clenched his jaw and smiled slowly, looking up at the man before him. "Huh, you've certainly thought this through."_

 _"I know."_

 _"They're going to talk to Andrew. I'll send in Tomas and Joe. They'll take out whatever men the Archer brings and then the Archer himself."_

 _"No. I want him alive. Him and anybody with him."_

 _"Even the brutes?"_

 _"No, you can dispose of them, but keep him alive. Do you understand?"_

 _"Understood, sir." He met his eyes. "You won't regret this."_

 _"For your sake, I'd better not." He turned and strolled out of the warehouse. He could hear the child crying in the truck of the car, and he opened it, the small auburn-haired child scrambling backward, whimpering. He held a hand out and loosened the binds, taking the bottle of water from the pack beside her and offering it it her again, and again she didn't take it. "Honey, you gotta drink sometime."_

 _Her moist, red-rimmed eyes stared back at him, her cheeks sore from the gag that dried her tongue and made it feel swollen; her wrists were raw, bruising from the tight cuffs the man named Joe had slapped on her once her guard was down outside her school. Her uniform was wrinkled around her, the chains that linked the cuffs together wrapped around her ankles, and she couldn't move all that well. She knew what kind of man he was. She knew what he might do. Her father never told her about the men he knew or made angry in his line of work, but she wasn't a baby. She knew. She heard things from Noah and Axel that she probably shouldn't have, so she knew. She wasn't going to take anything from these men, no matter what they said. No offer would make her give up her resolve. That was all she had now. That and faith that her dad was coming._

 _"Fine, be pigheaded." He stepped back. "Just like your father."_

 _She lifted her chin so that she could only see him if she looked down. She had seen her uncle do this many times, and she knew her uncle well enough to know what she was doing, what she was telling him. He was beneath her. To use her to get what he wanted was something a coward did. The strong made an alliance, built up the weak and keep the strong from trying to revolt. They make peace. They make each other strong and safe. That's how Daddy did it. That's how she knew he was the exact opposite. Cowards use and they take. She hadn't seem many, but she had read plenty._

 _He closed the trunk and drank from the bottle, tossing it and the lid to the ground before he climbed into the car and pulled out._


	10. The Mole

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

"Ceasar, everybody needs a break," Andrea argued. "You saw Carol. Maybe she saw a therapist. Maybe she decided to take a break to rest her brain."

"That's a bunch of bullshit. You know her. She wouldn't do that."

"Ceasar, you don't know everyone. People have secrets. They—they keep dark things to themselves. You know how Carol is. No matter how close you are or how much you wish to know her, there are things she hasn't told even you."

"Yes, I know that, Andrea, but I know her too. She—she's in danger. Something happened. Like before, like at the funeral." He lowered himself down on the bed. "Someone targeted her, and we both know there has been someone after her for years. What if he got her? What if he's holding her somewhere?"

"It's—a possibility."

"I have to find her, even if it _is_ as simple as taking a vacation."

"I know." She exhaled and crawled closer to him, cupping her hands behind his neck. "I know."

"I already lost one sister. I can't lose another."

"You know, had you not said that I might be jealous." She smirked.

He returned her smirk. "Might? You know where my heart is."

"Hopefully in your chest, because anywhere else would be disturbing and impossible."

"You know what I was meant."

She chuckled and straddled his lap, pressing her forehead to his and briefly closing her eyes. "On a more serious note, you need to be careful with this." She set a hand over the shirt where the bandage was, and he grasped her hand. "The man who has been watching Carol is ruthless. He won't even pause before he pulls the trigger."

"I know, but when I find him—when Carol and I find him—he won't have time to pull the trigger; he'll be in handcuffs." He met her eyes. "I vowed that I wouldn't leave you, and if I do, it's of natural causes."

"It was a sweet vow to make, but you know you can't keep it. You came back from this, but it won't always be like that, baby." Her fingers involuntarily tightened their grip on the back of his neck. "You won't always come back to us, so I need you to be careful. I'm not speaking as your wife, not even as your best friend or somebody that loves you; I'm speaking as somebody who doesn't want to tell their little girl her father died chasing a man who is practically a ghost, because his friend—his sister—may not have gone on vacation."

"I'll be as careful as I can."

"Just be sure to tuck your daughter in, okay?"

"I'll be here to tuck her in every night. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I don't."

She searched his eyes and kissed him, her fingers slipping into his hair, and she could feel his hands on her hips. She knew how he was after his sister. She had seen the look in his eyes when he told her, had heard it from Carol and his mother. She knew he wouldn't—couldn't let that happen again, and she had his back one hundred percent. She just didn't want to the one to tell the heart wrenching story of how she lost her husband and her best friend at the same time to her daughter, if this didn't work out. She didn't want to have those nightmares. She had faith in him, but that sniper was one hell of a shot and could pull one hell of a disappearing act. She didn't want to be at two more funerals. She couldn't.

"Before you go Liam Neeson," she smiled when he laughed under his breath, "you're staying here tonight."

"Is that an order?"

"Damn straight it is." Her voice was soft but stern.

"I still owe Carol a dinner, just the four of us, and I have no intentions of leaving this world when I owe somebody something."

"Good answer." She kissed him, and he groaned softly. "You okay?"

"It's not entirely healed."

"Do you need anything? The medication the doctors gave you should help."

"I'm fine, Andrea. I've felt worse."

"Are you sure?"

"If you're doubtful, you can be on top," he mused.

"Thanks for the permission." She leaned back. "Let me go check on Keira, and when I get back, you'd better have lost those pants and this shirt." She rose up off the bed and disappeared in the doorway.

He stood up and glanced in the doorway after her. He didn't know how deep he would have to go before he found her, but he was ready to go all the way. She had saved him once, and she was family. He had lost Karen and Sam, but not Carol. Andrea would understand if the worst should happen, and Keira would...eventually understand one day. If he risked his lives for strangers, he sure as hell was going to risk it for family.

– – –

Groaning echoed around her, like dripping water reverberated off the walls of a well, and she gripped the back of her head, feeling an aching pulse there, and slowly she pushed herself up. The room was blurry when she first opened her eyes, but soon became clear to reveal that they were in serious, deep shit.

Daryl was on the floor beside her, still out cold, so the groans had come from her, and yet she didn't remember groaning, didn't feel them climbing up her throat. She felt so disoriented. What the hell happened to them? She remembered talking to Andrew then falling, air rushing through her hair and around her face and then this. Where were they anyway?

Finding a wall, she leaned against it, her body sore. She slowed her breathing as panic began to swell in her lungs, and she closed her eyes, thinking back. They were speaking with Andrew. He was being a cocky asshole, and she knew—she knew—that something was off about him and the tone in his voice. He was too sure. He was too calm. It was a set-up. For it to be a set-up, there had to be a betrayal. Somebody close to Daryl betrayed him? Who? Why? A little girl's life was on the line and some bastard decided to switch teams.

She shook her head and opened her eyes, taking in the room. It was a standard bedroom, only the windows had been paved over, and there was only one worn out door, but judging from the paint and how it chipped, it was a metal door, and they weren't getting through it.

"Daryl?" She pushed herself up onto her feet using the wall and stumbled over to him. "Daryl." She lowered herself down beside him and set a hand on his back. "Daryl, come on, wake up."

He didn't move.

"Daryl? Daryl?" She moved the hair from his neck and checked for a pulse, not finding one, and her heart stopped. "Daryl?" She rolled him onto his back with some difficulty as he was big man made of muscle, and she set a hand on his cheek. "Daryl? Daryl! Daryl!"

Nothing.

"Come on, you bastard! You don't get to be dead. You don't get to die on that little girl." She smacked his cheek lightly, trying to wake him. "Daryl, wake the hell up. Come on!"

His eyelids twitched.

"So that's what it takes? Cussing?" She shook her head. "Asshole." She sat back and felt for a pulse in his wrist, this time she found it, and it was getting stronger.

He jolted and shot up, his eyes scanning the room and landing on her. He grasped her shoulders. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

"You mean that?"

"Of course I do. Why would I lie?"

"The most common lie is I'm fine."

She rolled her eyes and removed his hands, rising. "Stop reading so much."

"Scared I'm smarter than you?" He checked himself before he stood up.

"Really? Witty banter? Right now?"

"If not now, when? When we're dead?"

"Just start looking for a way out."

"There ain't one." He rubbed his shoulder. "Can tell you that now."

"How do you know that?"

"I've been here before." He dropped his hand. "I helped make this place."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"For a friend, for... It was a just in case type of thing, like you."

"I'm a what?"

He didn't answer that question. "Gareth runs this place. Son of a bitch. Tsh, I knew he had no spine." He rubbed his jaw. "We're fucked."

"Gareth? Who's that?"

"A small fish in my world. The Gov had to have offered him somethin'. I don't know what, but that bastard is a smoother talker. His men would do anything for him just about, and I bet he gave Gareth a real sweet deal. Too bad he'll kill him when he's done with me."

"So the knife in your back belongs to Gareth?"

"Yeah, but—I don't ever talk to Gareth. He's Merle's man. I only work with the men I introduced to you." He shook his head. "Merle called him, asked for a damn favor. Shit. He thought he was helping us, but he only screwed us all over."

"And your men? Oscar and Abraham?" She watched as he swallowed hard, his eyes lowering along with his head, and she folded her arms. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. They—they knew the risks." He cleared his throat. "And I'll make 'em sorry for this."

"I can't let you do that, you know."

"I respect your loyalty and code, Carol, but they were my men. I'm not gonna let them just walk away."

"They won't!" Carol promised. "I won't let them."

"You can't guarantee they'll pay for this."

"I can guarantee this: they drugged us, kidnapped us, and they will go down for that. The rest of it, I don't know, but I can assure you that they will pay for this—legally."

"You know, legally ain't done shit for me."

"Trust me."

He smirked. "Seeing as the last time you told me to trust you, you were right. I'll believe you. For now."

"Oh, just for now? Wait till I save your ass and your little girl."

"And arrest said saved ass?"

She smiled a little. "Still a criminal."

"Yeah, still a cop."

There was a sliding sound, Daryl stepped back and a can rolled into the room, but before they could even reach each other or protect themselves, it blew up and light and smoke filled the room. Carol felt arms grabbing at her, and she struggled. And though she couldn't see who her attacker was, she still gave one hell of a fight as they carried her out of the room, and she would have kept fighting until they slipped a needle into her back.

The next thing she saw was the same room she had been in only minus Daryl and plus being tied to a chair and two men were with in. One of them was a stranger to her, but the other. The other was Tomas, and boy did he ever look very pleased to have her all tied up like a Christmas package, ready to be ripped open. She could tell the next few hours were going to be hell, but she was damn sure they weren't going to be her last. She just hoped Daryl made off better than she had.

"Well, if it isn't the gray-haired queen bitch," Tomas spat, bending down and chuckling. "It's my lucky week. I'm gonna enjoy this."

"Remember," the man warned.

"I don't have to kill her to enjoy this," he shot back. "Leave me with her."

"I can't do that."

"Stop being such a pussy. The guy isn't even here." He straightened. "Get the fuck out, Gareth."

"Fine, but if you kill her, it's on you."

"What's he gonna do? Kill me? At least I'll die knowing this bitch went first."

"You know, from the sound of your tone you don't seem as pleased as I was when we met last," Carol chimed in. "But it is nice to see you haven't let go of our time. It's not all pathetic and creepy to hold a grudge this lon—"

He punched in the face and grabbed a fistful of hair. "Shut up."

"Your right hook could use some improvement." She kicked him in the balls as hard as she could, and the man named Gareth—the one who sold Daryl out—slapped her across the face so hard her cheek busted open. She could feel he was wearing a ring. Well, the _several_ rings he wore. Shit.

"Take care of her," Gareth ordered. "We have enough smart-mouthed bitches around here."

"Any time you want to come up with a new offensive name is fine by me," Carol tossed out.

Tomas pulled a rag from his back pocket and shoved it deep into her mouth and went over to a table filled with tools for just this purpose. He wanted to make this special. She put him in prison, and he was going to make her pay for every second.

"I'm going to take care of Daryl, get him ready for the Governor." He exited the room, giving one last look to Carol and smirking at her. She was going to regret throwing his pasty ass in prison.

"I don't want to double cross anybody." Tomas ran something metal and ice cold along her cheek, and he jerked her head back. "There a plenty of ways I can hurt you without killing you. Let's start with the abdomen." He slammed the cold, metal object into her ribs, and she bit down on the rag, not caring what was on it as it was already in her mouth, and he chuckled. "A broken rib might puncture a lung, or worse, and the Gov wants you alive for some reason so we'll deliver you in one piece, but see over the years I've managed to bruise the body as badly as any fatal wound."

She was breathing roughly already, and she prepared herself for the next blow, her agonized cries muffled by the rag in her mouth.

––

Daryl was handcuffed to a chair in the room he and Carol had been in, only now it was him, Shumpert and Crowley. They hadn't laid a hand on him, so obvious the Governor wanted him alive. He knew the same didn't apply to Carol, so he needed to work out a deal. He didn't involve her just to get her killed. That was the last thing he wanted to happen to anybody. He had to talk fast. He couldn't afford to waste a second. These soundproof walls were no friend to him, so he couldn't confirm the harm he could assume she was enduring at the moment.

"Where's Carol?" Daryl demanded.

"Oh, she's just down the hall, spending some quality time with Tomas," Shumpert replied, voice deep and slow.

Fucking hell. Anybody but Tomas. He had it out for her already for the arrests and prison time. Son of a bitch. "I guess it makes sense," Daryl coolly uttered.

"What does?" Crowley crouched down.

"Y'all two watching me. I mean, I'd leave someone like me with bitches like you two."

"Trying to goad us?" Shumpert's eyes flashed.

"Intelligent, sophisticated murders like you two? Never."

Crowley narrowed his eyes, but it was Shumpert who spoke, not letting his dense partner fall for the bait. "Why do you care who's with that woman?"

"I don't."

He smirked. "I'll be right back."

Daryl didn't like the look in his eyes. "You're gonna leave me with this dumbass?"

"I think he can manage." He tightened the cuffs, Daryl groaned, and he exited the room, making sure Daryl saw him pull out his knife.

He could only hear Crowley fumbling with his gun, but inside of his mind he could hear Carol's tortured screams; and he twisted his wrists raw, knowing that if he could get out of these binding and his damned nailed down chair—who the hell did that in real life anyway?—he could easily get by Crowley and get to her. Whatever was done to her now...was his fault.

– – –

"I can't pick her up," Caesar argued over the phone with Andrea.

"You have to. I have a meeting in five minutes, and I can't bail. You'll have to pick her up. Unless you want to leave her alone outside of her school for a few hours."

He sighed. "Can't someone else take her home? What about her friend?"

"Caesar, when you call all of her friends "that" friend how am I supposed to know which one you're talking about?"

"I'll pick her up."

"And you'll have to keep her with you."

"What?"

"The babysitter's sick. I just got the message."

"I'm working a case. I can't let her tag along."

"Locating your best friend is not a "case". Until you have proof that something happened to her, it's just concern."

"I don't need proof."

"Legally, yes you do."

"Could you talk to me like I'm your husband and not your employee?"

"I am. You need to remember that you don't have the same authority as you do when you're working a Michonne-approved case. The last thing I want is to have to bail you out of jail for B and E, or worse."

"I heard what you said, but Michonne-approved?"

"Two minutes." She was trying to be stern, but he heard her give a hushed laugh.

"I'll go pick up Keira, and I'm going to swing by Carol's and pick up groceries for dinner. Anything in particular in mind?"

"Bell peppers."

"Bell...peppers? What do you want to do with that?"

"Just pick some up for me."

"All right. Anything else?"

"No, that's all. I have to go, but please be careful."

"I will be. I'll see you at home. I love you."

"I love you too." She hung up and exited her office.

Caesar started the car and headed to his daughter's school. He would have to be careful about what he said to her. He didn't want her to worry about Carol. Andrea was right. He didn't know that Carol was in danger, so he needed to keep his guard up and appear like everything was normal, because for all he knew it was. He knew in his gut it wasn't, but there was still a chance that he was wrong. He didn't know why she would have left. He kept thinking over the many possibilities, but there wasn't one that came to him. She had no blood family, just him and his mom and Andrea and Keira, and his mom hadn't heard from Carol since Christmas. She wasn't the type to just up and vanish unless she was working a case, and Michonne was keeping her off cases until she was evaluated, and even then it depended on what the report said.

Maybe she was running to avoid being evaluated, which made no sense, because if she didn't go through with the psych evaluation, she was risking her job. Her job was her entire life, so she wouldn't run. And Michonne hadn't even told her about it yet, so there was no way she knew. Unless she overheard him talking about it with Andrea the other night. Shit, that could have been it. She could have left to clear her head and prepare herself. Maybe that was it, but he needed to be sure. He needed to know she was all right. The last time he assumed she was... Those who didn't learn from history were doomed to repeat it; he wouldn't repeat his past.

Keira climbed into the car and set her backpack beside her, buckling herself in, and she smiled, happy that it was her dad who came to pick her up. He rarely did. "Where's Mommy?"

"At a meeting." He looked back at her. "How was your day?"

"Fine." She could tell something was wrong and frowned.

"What's with that face?"

"You're working, aren't you?"

"No! No. I'm not working."

"Promise?"

"I pinkie promise."

She didn't believe him, but she smiled anyway, knowing that would make him happy. "So, where are we going?"

"To Carol's—I need to pick up the plasticware we let her borrow." He pulled out. "Then we're going to the store to grab dinner."

"Is Carol gonna be there? I wanna show her what I made in class today."

"I don't know, baby, but maybe."

She sat back and gazed out the window as they drove to Carol's, and Caesar rubbed his thumb over the spare key Carol had given him years ago. He had lost his key so many times when they were roommates, so she eventually put it on a necklace and made sure he had it before he left. She was the best, always thinking about how to improve things in her life and other people's lives as well. He couldn't let anything happen to her. His gripped tightened on the key, thinking about the last time he had been careless, and he clenched his jaw. That would never happen again.

When they arrived at Carol's, Caesar kept Keira close, and he found her door was locked up tight. That was a good sign. The vacant apartment was not, and his stomach sank slightly.

Keira hopped up on the couch and turned on the television to watch one of her after school cartoons since her father was taking his time in looking for "plastic ware". She knew her dad well, and he was working. At least they were together. Sorta.

He scanned the kitchen, not seeing the slightest thing out of place and nothing was broken. He headed to the bathroom, seeing that Carol had left it in the same manner as always, and he moved onto the hall closet, mostly checking to see if her body came tumbling out of it. Luckily it did not. And the guest bedroom was in the beginning of being made up for Mika. She had stripped the bed and was clearing out the drawers. Nobody had been in this room since...since 2003. Mika would brighten the place up. He just knew that little angel would. He hoped she brightened up Carol too.

He found himself now in her bedroom. Her bed was in the normal condition: unmade, sheets hanging off, pillows knocked onto the floor. She would only make it when she had company coming over or if she woke up early enough, and she usually did. She just didn't care sometimes. After having Sam, she made sure their beds were always made. He never knew why.

There was nothing off about her apartment, and he felt his gut loosen just a bit. He would call her again, see if she left her phone was here somewhere, and with luck she would pick up. He stepped back out of the room and felt something under his shoe. Lifting his foot he saw the cap to a needle, and he picked it up.

Son of a bitch.

– – –

Daryl lifted his head, feeling exhaustion creeping over him, and he could feel it was either early morning or late at night. He hadn't slept well since they took Sophia, and he wasn't going to sleep now. He needed to get to Carol. He needed to get the hell out of these cuffs and get to her so they could get Sophia. He had to wake the fuck up.

The door opened, there was whispering from someone he couldn't see and then it slipped shut again. He looked at Crowley, and Crowley was smiling like a giddish schoolboy, but before he could ask what the hell he was smiling at, Shumpert returned.

"Still awake?" He flicked something cold and wet at Daryl, and Daryl turned his head as he chuckled, pulling a rag out and wiping down his knife.

Daryl's eyes locked on the reddening cloth, and he looked down at himself, seeing the drops of blood on his shirt and pants.

"Your little girlfriend gave one hell of a fight," Shumpert informed him. "So stubborn, and she wouldn't sit still...hence so much blood."

Daryl's jaw tightened and he bared his teeth, jerking toward Shumpert in his bindings, like he could get to him, and Shumpert threw his head back to laugh. Daryl growled and spat at him, and Crowley backed up at the furious look in Daryl's wild eyes. Daryl roared sentences that were composed of cuss words and growls at Shumpert, struggling so much that he could feel his skin tearing against the cuffs, and he was so focused that he didn't notice Crowley had moved behind him until he felt the sharp sting of a needle in his neck.

––

Daryl groaned and slowly came to, feeling the cold floor on his back, and he shot up. He was in a new room, one that was completely dark, and he let his eyes adjust, trying to see if anybody was in there with him. He didn't dare call out.

A light flickered on, he stood up instantly as the door creaked open, and they threw Carol at him like she was nothing more than a doll they were done playing with. He caught her and turned her over, catching a glimpse of what they had done to her before the door slammed shut and the lights were turned off.

Her cheek had been busted open, her bottom lip cut and swollen, sweat staining her shirt as well as blood. Her belt had been ripped off of her jeans so violently the button had broken off and the zipper may have been broken as well. The only upside to this was Carol was breathing. Unconscious, but she was still breathing.

He sat back on his legs, holding her in his arms, and he pulled her closer, wanting her to be against something warm rather than the cold floor. There was no point in thinking all the he should nevers; what was done was already done and thinking wouldn't make her any better. He would make sure they paid for this. He wouldn't kill them, but he would take their power away and then when they were back to sniveling rats, Carol would arrest them, and he had enough to bury them in prison for the rest of their lives and then some.

When he got out of this shithole cell, he was going to find that small fish motherfucker and make him suffer for this. That was a promise.


	11. The Not So Great Escape

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

"Why aren't they back yet?" Axel paced the length of the table while Noah sat on the stairs behind him calmly. "Something's happened. Oscar would have called us if they were delayed."

"Maybe they had to go somewhere," Noah suggested. "You know, maybe Andrew told them what they needed to now so they went there and can't call 'cause they can't. Or maybe they don't want us involved. That's more likely. Daryl never wants us in the thick of it."

"What if they know about Carol?" Axel turned to him. "She's been in the paper before, and maybe Andrew recognized her. Tomas holds grudges. You know that as well as I do, and if he told Andrew about Carol, they're screwed."

"You worry more than my mother." He shot up. "I'll call the hidden phone, and if they don't pick up, we'll trace the GPS, okay?"

"Okay."

"Jesus. I'd let you take the fall for this, but Daryl knows you can't work a computer to save your life," Noah mused. "Call your contacts—do something productive."

Axel was glad they had this kid on their side, but sometimes he wanted to throw a brick at him.

––

"Did you see this?" Caesar all but shoved the bagged needle cap in to Michonne's face. He had a lot of coffee and not enough sleep. "It was in Carol's apartment."

"I know. You've told me this four times." Michonne snatched the evidence bag from him. "I've had it analyzed, and we found a partial print that didn't belong to you. Or even Carol. I already sent our people over to her apartment."

"This means something happened to her, Michonne. This wasn't random."

"Nothing ever is with Carol." She sighed, shaking her head slightly. "There was a tenant in her building that moved out the day Carol informed me she was going on vacation."

"Who? I'll talk to him."

"I can't have you on this case," Michonne informed him.

"What?!" Caesar exclaimed. "Why the hell not? Without me, you wouldn't even know there _was_ a case!"

"You're too close to Carol, and you'll run with any lead we find. I'm not doing this as a punishment. I'm doing this for your safety and Carol's. I'm sorry, Martinez, but you will not be working this case. I already have a team assembling, and I have work for you."

"Michonne—"

"That's Captain," she corrected at his tone, needing to be stern. "Now, you have work to do."

He scoffed. "Sure." He walked out of the office and saw Rosita joining a small group, scoffing. She spotted him and tapped her phone with her fingernail, but he wasn't in the mood to read her reassurances via text or e-mail. He had to blow off some steam and then go behind the Captain's back to find Carol. He was the best shot they had. He knew how criminals worked. He was undercover for six years. He knew Carol like the back of his hand, and he knew how she would handle this. He would ask for forgiveness later since he didn't have permission.

With one last glance at the sorry excuse for a team Michonne had gathered, he decided that he worked better on his own. He didn't need to catch anybody up to speed on all things Carol and this case; he didn't need to watch anybody's back, and while that left his exposed, he would still go after the sons of bitches who took her. He didn't have it in him to ever just walk away. With that said, he had to make a call. He pulled his phone out to call Andrea to tell her he wouldn't be home for dinner. He noticed he had an e-mail. He ignored it and called his wife.

"What happened?"

"How do you know something happened?"

"You barely stayed still when you got home from stopping by Carol's, you left the house at four and only now are you calling me. Clearly something happened. What was it? Is Carol all right? Did you find her? Or who took her?"

"Michonne's assembling a team to find her. They founds prints on the syringe cap that didn't belong to me...so we're looking in to it." He inhaled deeply. "I won't be home for dinner. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm glad you found the evidence you needed. Besides I have Keira, and it's a weekend. We'll just watch some movies and order pizza or something." She cleared her throat. "I—I need to talk to you, though. Not right now, but soon, okay? Before you go charging after Carol. And not over the phone."

"Yeah, of course."

"Okay. Well, good luck. I hope you both come home soon."

"Me too. I love you, Andrea. Tell Keira I love her too."

"You can do that yourself," her voice was small, like she was trying to keep him from hearing just how upset she was. It was confirmed now, and this was all real. Her best friend had been drugged and kidnapped and was in the hands of God only knows who. God, what were they doing to her? What did they want from her? Why her to the begin with?

"I should go," he softly said. "I'll—I'll see you when I see you. You and Keira both."

"With luck, maybe Carol will be with you. Or maybe you'll at least have an idea of who took her." She sucked in a breath. "I love you, Caesar. Be careful with this. You don't know why they chose her, and if you poke blindly...we may not get her back."

"I know. I will be very careful. I love you too, Andrea. Don't forget to lock up tonight."

"I never do." She hung up.

He rubbed the back of his neck and headed out. He hated lying to her, but he had no choice. If she knew he was alone in this, she'd handcuff him to the railing at the house. Or worse. He knew she would understand in the end, but for now he had to get started. He had a couple of contacts that might lead him to who took Carol. However he needed to watch himself. The men they worked for didn't like their people to ask too many questions. Or any at all.

– – –

Carol woke up to the feeling of warmth and stinging pain, and she opened her eyes to darkness. She pushed herself up, jaw set as pain washed over her, and she felt for a wall, kicking Daryl in the process. She could hear him waking and apologized to him, turning so that her back was against the cold wall. She cried out softly, but the cold felt good.

"Carol." He looked around. "Carol?"

"Y—yes?" She gripped her knees and groaned.

"Shit, are you all right?" He stood where he was, not wanting to accidentally crash right in to her.

"I'll be fine. I've had worse."

"Really?"

"I have plenty of scars from my younger days," she informed him. "This will all heal."

"I'm sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt like that."

"It's fine."

"No, it isn't fine. It's the furthest thing from fine!"

"All that matters is that I'm alive, and I am so...just drop it." She lightly touched the dried blood on her cheek and repressed a wince. "When do the lights come back on? Or do they not?"

"They turned 'em on when they threw you back in here. I don't think they intend to turn the light on for us." He ran a hand through his hair. "I guess the Governor's on his way here to pick us up."

"One of the assholes who was in the room with me said they were preparing you to meet him. This is preparing?"

"Guess so."

She felt something dig into her skin, and she groaned. What the hell now? Her entire torso felt like it was on fire when she moved and now this? What all did he do to her? It was all fuzzy from the drugs they'd used, but she knew he'd taken her belt, so he most likely beat her with it. And she vaguely remembered another man entering the room. She didn't...know him.

"What did they do?" Daryl whispered, finding the outline of her face in the dark.

"You saw, didn't you? When they threw me in here."

"Yeah...I did." His voice was thick, deeper as well. "Your...jeans...the belt and zipper... They didn't—"

"No," she interrupted him.

"They didn't?"

"No." She sank down onto the floor and felt the pinch again. "They just roughened me up a bit. Nothing I couldn't handle." He moved beside her, and she could feel his body heat. "What about you? They just toss you around a bit?"

"Yeah." He couldn't touch his wrists they were so raw and swollen. "Did more damage to myself."

"The Governor must not want you to be harmed."

"He'll wanna do that himself. He probably has a torture kit all worked out with knives and shit."

She frowned at that and pulled in her legs to try and get comfortable. It suddenly it her, and she gasped softly and hastily removed her boot.

"What?" He could hear her scrambling. "What? What?"

"Hold on." She reached into the bottom of the boot and found the knife she'd had taken from the bag Daryl had in his car, and she smiled in the dark.

"I'm holding," Daryl reminded her.

She grasped his hand and set the sharp knife inside his palm then slipped her boot back on. "I took this while you were talking to Abraham."

"Why did you take this?"

"To use it on you if you tried to betray me."

"Haven't we been over this? I'm not going to betray you. Hell, you were the one who kept talkin' about a knife in your back, but you were the one with the damn knife the whole time!"

"Shush!" She took the knife back. "I have an idea. It might get us out of here, but I'm not sure."

"What idea?"

"Do you think you could take any of the men that come to the door?" She kept her voice low in case the room was bugged.

"Probably, but why would I have to?"

"Because I'm going kill the smaller of however many men that walk through that door, and you're going to bum rush the other. If it's more than two, we'll take the last out together, or just push by him and run as fast as we can."

"With that little thing? Carol, have you seen them? Not one of 'em is gonna be affect by that."

"Daryl, just trust me."

He sighed. "Fine. How do you wanna do this?"

She leaned in so that her lips were only inches from ear and whispered what he needed to do. She would have to act first, but he would need to immediately act right after her, or they were going to die. Daryl knew the layout of this place, so he was going to lead them out of here. She would just make sure they got out in once piece. She hoped whoever came to the door had more than just sedatives on them. They would need a gun if they were going to get out of this alive. Two, if they were lucky, but luck wasn't entirely on their side. It was never was when Carol needed it.

––

It was about time to move Daryl and the cop he had tagging along with him. Gareth made sure Tomas and Shumpert were prepared and so was the vehicle. It was going to be quite a drive, and they needed Carol and Daryl compliant. Obviously, even with his daughter's life on the line, the Archer didn't care what happened. That must be why the Governor wanted Carol alive—to see just what kind of woman it takes to risk his daughter's life and his own. How many lives was Sophia's going to cost?

Gareth sent Crowley ahead with Andrew, and he told Tomas and Shumpert to get Carol and Daryl ready for transportation. They were going to drop them off at the location the Governor had told him and then they would collect their reward. He hoped this went as smooth as silk. He really didn't want to have to deal with Merle when this was over. He had a bad temper, and while he would beat him within an inch of his life for this betrayal, he didn't want to find out how much further he would beat him because it was his niece and his brother.

Tomas unlocked the door while Shumpert hit the lights, and he swung the door open, finding the two of them curled up in the corner together, blinking rapidly at the light that hit them. He smirked at his work on the detective's cheek and bottom lip, and he strolled into the room, pulling the syringe from his back pocket.

Shumpert grabbed Daryl and held him tightly by the arm, guiding him out. They would handcuff him once they were in the car. They would sedate the cop, keep her close so that the Archer wouldn't try anything. He cared for her, or at least didn't want her blood on his hands, and they would use that to their advantage. The Governor wanted him to be clearheaded and awake when they arrived, so no sedatives for him. That didn't mean they couldn't knock him out if he got too...excited.

Carol just glared at Tomas, and he chuckled, reaching for her arm, knowing she'd be stupid to fight. He had the syringe in one hand and a gun on his belt. He knew plenty of places to shoot her that wouldn't kill her. Gareth never said she had to be in perfect condition. Surely the Gov would understand. Or he would when he met the bitch.

Reaching out her arm to gently accept the drug, Carol shifted her weight, and Tomas leaned closer. She gripped the knife and sliced a very specific point on his arm, and at the same time, Daryl slammed Shumpert in to the wall with all of his body weight. Tomas jerked back instantly, about to grab his gun, but he noticed just how much he was bleeding; and Carol punched him in the face, grabbing his gun. Daryl bashed Shumpert's face into the wall, slamming a foot into his gut and taking a hold of the knife he'd used on Carol.

"Let's go!" Carol hurried down the hall and turned to see him staring in at Tomas. "Daryl!"

"Yeah..." He spun around and caught up to her.

He scanned both halls and knew the quickest way to reach exit was most likely guarded by more of either Gareth's men or the Governor's, so the safest and most reliable route was the longer one. They had time though. No guns were fired to alert Gareth of their escape, so they were good for now. They nonetheless needed to hustle all the same.

"This wa—"

As if jinxed, a bullet sliced through the air and right through Daryl's side, and at the end of the hall, struggling to see clearly, was Shumpert. Carol gasped, and Daryl slumped against her. She grasped his hips to try and balance him, seeing Shumpert trying to aim again. Carol raised her arm and shot him right between the eyes. She helped Daryl get to a wall, and she watched as his black shirt grew wet with fresh, hot blood.

"Hold on. I can use one of their shirts as—"

"No. We don't got time for that. No, we gotta go." He pushed off the wall. "We gotta move—now."

"You lead. I'll cover you."

"Shit." He groaned, and he forced himself forward. There would be a blood trail, but they had to get the hell out of there, especially now since Carol killed his two best men. Gareth would want blood. Her blood. They had to move. "C'mon, this way."

Carol could see he wouldn't make it very far, and they were probably going to die down here if they didn't hurry. She could hear thundering boots echoing down the halls as they fled through the building as quickly as possible, and it was only a matter of minutes before they were on top of them. She wrapped an arm around him and moved his arm across her shoulders, letting him use her as a crutch. They were already moving slowly at top speed, so at least Daryl had someone to lean against.

They continued through the building, Daryl pushed himself on, and Carol could hear them catching up. It would only be a matter of who reached their gun first in a few seconds. They had to get out of sight now. They needed cover and bandages and—and a lot of shit neither of them had. If they could just get out of this, he could get to a hospital, and Carol could turn this over to Michonne. They would get Sophia and shut down the drug operation for a while.

Carol reached down and touched the wounded, not feeling an exit hole, and Daryl groaned. Shit, that meant the bullet was still inside his body. Great, that just made dealing with this even more challenging than it was before. She couldn't perform surgery on him. Damn it! Even if they had what they needed and Carol managed to stop the bleeding, it wouldn't matter because they couldn't get out of there to deal with it. They were like rats in a maze, and it felt like every corner herded them further and further away from escaping. Perhaps all the blood loss was messing with Daryl's memory.

"Daryl, they're catching up."

"Through here." He pushed on the door, but it didn't move. "Goddamn it!"

"Step back." She raised her gun and shot through the lock, pushing it open. "Come on."

They hurried down the next hall, Gareth's men close enough that both Carol and Daryl could hear them shouting orders at them, and they ran. Carol saw another door, and she shot through that lock as well, not going to wait to test if it was locked or not. She glanced back and saw men rounding the corner, and she shot at them, keeping them back until Daryl was out the door. There was sunlight on the other side, and she followed when the men dove back to avoid bullets.

Out in the sun, they took in their surroundings, groaning and squinting at the sudden and bright light, trying to see where they could go. They were in an abandoned warehouse, and the street was empty. There were no cars anywhere in sight, so they would have to keep going on foot. Damn it. At least they made it out of there without one of them dying. That was good. If only they could take time to catch their breaths, but that was luxury right now.

"Down here." Carol put her arm around him and helped him down the street. She knew this place. Not like the back of her hand, but she knew it enough. She did work here once, back before she was a cop. There were no good places to hide and rest for more than just a few hours, because they could easily check each building, but they didn't have a choice. Daryl wouldn't make it very far, and she needed to see to his wound, and they needed to come up with new plan to get Sophia back.

Once through several alleys, barely avoiding the thugs after them, Carol released Daryl and began to work on prying open a window, leaving him slumped against a wall. Breaking in was easier said than done.

"Where are we goin'?" He was panting heavily, all color drained from his face, and he looked at her.

"Into this building." She used the butt of the gun to knock out the glass to the window. "Give me one second."

"Hurry." He pushed off the wall and tripped in her direction, trying to shake this feeling off.

She climbed inside, landing on her feet in a way that wasn't at all grace or painless. She felt something pull in her leg, and she whimpered when she stood on it, but she had no choice but it shake it off. She saw a chair that could ease Daryl inside, and moved it under the window, telling him to hurry and be careful.

Using some old crates that bent at his weight, Daryl managed to slip inside, almost falling face first into the chair Carol had left under the window for him. She assisted him through the window when she saw him almost fall face first into the building, and he thanked her. He saw the blood he'd smeared on the sill and hoped they didn't notice it too. It was midday, so they were plenty of hours for them to see it. That and the lovely trail of blood he'd left. He scanned the room with the small light the broken window provided, and he spotted Carol by the window, peering through binds.

"We good?"

"No. Of course we're not good, but for the moment, we lost them. They'll find us eventually. Luckily, your wound stopped bleeding a few streets back, so that's good news." She turned to him. "And speaking of your wound, now that we have some cover, let me see that."

"I'm good. It's...it's good."

"Daryl, you've lost a lot of blood."

"I got plenty left."

"You are so pigheaded." She searched the room they were in. "I'll try and find something to clean that with, and you _will_ let me clean it."

"Sure." He checked the street and wondered just how long they had, how long his daughter had. He had no clue where she was, but the Gov knew that he was on the loose. This plan was risky. Too risky, but they had no choice. If they had stayed, they'd have died. This was the only way. He had to keep hoping the Governor wanted him bad enough to keep Sophia alive. Maybe he'd punish Gareth for his men shooting him. He glanced down at the wound, lifting his shirt. _Fucking Shumpert_. He was good shot. It was a good thing Daryl had enough strength to disorient him like that, or he'd be dead right now. He didn't care for rules so his punishment for this wouldn't have matter much to him. Well, it didn't matter now. Carol killed him, and he no longer had any concerns.

He leaned against the wall, glad to see that Carol was right and the bleeding had slowed; however the climb through the window had reopened it some. He left quite a trail behind. If they had dogs, they were screwed. Even more than they were ten seconds before he had that thought. He lifted his head when he heard Carol's boots scuffle the floor, he took notice of how Carol had a limp to her walk; yet she didn't wince, didn't stop looking for anything to clean his wound, and he was impressed. She was very... Well, she was certainly different than what he expect.

Carol returned with only duct tape and an old cloth. "This is all I found, but I do know what this place was."

"What?"

"A morgue." He chuckled softly and shook his head, and she smirked. "Thought you might like that. Take off your shirt. I'll try and wipe some of the blood off."

He removed his shirt, grunting some, and she set her hand on his lower stomach. She bent down and looked over the area, tilting her head and smiling a little. "There it is."

"What? There what is?"

"I was wrong. It did go clean through." She gently wiped at the fresh blood, and he clenched his jaw. "We need to get you to a doctor."

"'Cause we got the option." He stepped back. "Gimme that."

She straightened, held out the tape and narrowed her eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah." He broke off a long piece of duct tape, covering the wound and his entire lower torso, and Carol shook her head. "What? It ain't like you're a doctor. And we aren't going to one until we have Sophia back."

"And how do we do that?" She sat down in the chair across from him. "We don't know where she is, and we can't trust your people."

"We aren't going to yours," he reminded her.

"Obviously." She sighed. "We don't even have a car. And they're looking for us."

"They won't hurt you," Daryl promised.

"I killed two of their men. Of course they'll try and kill me." She turned her gaze to the blinds. "They'll thoroughly check us if they catch us again, and they'll keep us apart to not only ensure that we don't plan another escape, but to keep each other in the dark on how the other is doing. They must know you want me alive, and they'll use me to get you to do whatever they want, just like they're using Sophia."

"How the hell did you have time to think all of that?"

"I didn't make detective because of my looks, Archer." She flashed him an amused grin.

His brows rose. "We may not need to escape," he added an extra layer of tape and more collapsed than sat in the chair behind him. "If we get caught, we need a plan to turn it to our advantage."

"What are you thinking?"

"We won't need weapons. We'll get out of this alive, with Sophia. And you'll get to take out half of the drug operation in the city."

"You call this a plan, but what you're suggesting...we'll need a miracle for that. And they don't exist."

"Maybe not, but the pain in your leg does. How is it?"

"My leg? It's fine."

"You were limping."

"It's nothing."

"Carol, you have enough injuries as it is. Don't tell me it's nothing."

"I may have pulled something. I'll walk it off."

"Could I?"

"Could you what?"

"You took a beating for me, and you saved me from eating a bullet. C'mere." She didn't move, and he pressed. "I'll just bug you till either they get us or you come here."

She groaned, but walked over to him. He held his hands up, palms out and slowly grasped her upper thigh. She instantly grew very rigid, but she didn't kick him in the face so he began to massage very gently her upper thigh, seeing her wince. "How's that?"

Her eyes were closed, but he could see the grimace lessen. "It's nice. Thanks."

"And your other...injures?"

"I've been better."

"What did he do to you?"

"We've been through this." She walked over to the window, deciding that was all the time they had for that. "I won't feed your guilt. You see my face, and I'm a just little bruised."

"That's all?"

"He valued his own life more than he wanted to take mine." She exhaled. "I guess that means you were right; the Governor wants us both alive."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Maybe he wants to see what kind of person makes a dedicated father go to the police without even trying to save his daughter first."

He met her eyes and leaned back. "I'm beginnin' to wonder what kind of person I got too."

"What do you mean?" She halfway faced him.

"Back there...with Tomas, what the hell did you do to him? I've never seen anything like that."

"It wasn't that impressive."

"Impressive isn't the word I would use. Fucking terrifying is a little closer. You barely cut him, and he bled to death within seconds."

She sighed. "All I did was cut the brachial artery."

"The what?"

"Do you really want me to go into detail about it? I'd rather just forget."

"So...it _did_ bother you."

"Of course it did." She scoffed and stood up. "I don't like killing. I'm not a machine! I did what I had to do to get us out of there, no different that you!"

"I didn't mean to imply that you were. You just didn't seem to...be bothered by it. You just did it...then you shot Shumpert."

"Because we were being held captive by ruthless assholes who abducted a child to get to her father!" Lowering her voice so much that he thought she was talking to herself, she uttered, "God only knows what the hell they're doing to her right now."

"I didn't mean to piss you off. I just don't know you. I just wanted to make sure you weren't—"

"You couldn't make sure of that _before_ you kidnapped me? Before you threw my entire life into chaos?"

"You agreed—"

"Yes, I did! I did agree, because I thought I could... I thought that this would be easy. I figured it'd be smooth sailing after we interrogated Andrew and got her location by threatening to take his child away. It was supposed to be extremely simple!" She locked eyes with him "I am not getting involved any deeper in this. I know how this goes, and I have lost too damn much to risk losing that much and more. You have no idea what this is gonna take, do you?"

"You think I don't know? It's _my_ little girl! _It's my child they kidnapped!_ "

"Oh, and that's the hard part?" she growled. "Your little girl is just lost somewhere with hard-hearted, murderous men, and you think _that's_ the hard part?"

" _Keep your voice down_ ," he hissed.

"You don't have a goddamn clue what the hard part is." She glared at him through the tears in her eyes, her heart racing in her chest, the cold and sickening fingers of her past dragging down her spine, causing an internal shudder to pass through her. "You don't know anything more than your illegal actions put an innocent child in harm's way! Maybe you should have just let her to be a ward of the state! Maybe her adoptive parents would have done a better job of keeping her safe, of giving her a normal and happy childhood!"

"Where is this coming from?" he demanded. "You said you would help! You said you would bring her back to me! You gave me your word!"

"What part of that said I wasn't going to help her? I'm not going invest myself in this any further, yes but that's not what you think it means." She couldn't look him in the eye anymore, and a tremble coursed through her from memories she'd buried so far inside of herself resurfacing so vividly that she was too scared to look at her hands for fear of seeing his blood coating her fingers. "I'm just...exhausted. I'm going to look for something to make in to a weapon in the next room. I may have missed something."

Once in the quiet of the next room, she regained herself, forcing back the unwanted memories of her past. She dried her eyes and shook the feeling of deja vu in her stomach so strong that she could almost hear his voice calling to her. She didn't expect this. Why was this in her mind? Were the events so similar? She didn't dare think back on her actions all those years ago. She couldn't. A little girl's life depended on them. On her. She just needed to hold on and tough this out. She needed to just keep breathing.

Daryl scoffed. What the hell was that about? What gave her the right to tell him Sophia's life would be better if she had been left in the state's care and adopted out? He couldn't even begin to tell her how wrong she was. She didn't know shit. Her other cases were not him and Sophia. She didn't know what the hell she was talking about. He shook his head and decided to keep a look out. They needed to keep an eye on this bastards so they could jump at the first chance for an escape. Hopefully Carol's little outburst didn't tip them off. Hell, maybe he should have gotten a just in case for the just in case.

– – –

Caesar caught up to Rosita, having finally read her e-mail, and they made plans to meet up later to talk. She was going to help him find Carol, because she knew they were the two best suited to find her. Rosita had the skill, and Caesar knew who to handle a gun. They were a good team, and they would get this done faster than that sad little group Michonne had put together. They were competent enough, but for this they needed to be majors in everything Carol Williams. She was one tough cookie to crack. Those men would never come close to understanding why she liked her coffee the way she did, let alone how she thought, how she moved and how she could see the signs of people watching her. A twenty minute briefing of her life was like reading a summary to a movie plot; you knew what happened, but you missed key details that told you no matter how dedicated and talented you were, no matter how careful and kind you were, there was always a shadow lurking close behind, ready and eager to spill blood. And every drop of blood told its own story. Those stories made up every scar, every cell, every memory and emotion that was Carol Williams, and they were how Rosita and Caesar were going to find her.

"I'll bring the coffee."

She smiled. "Good, because we'll need it."

Something caught something in the corner of his eye, and he looked over, seeing Andrea looking exceptionally pissed. "I have to go, but I'll meet you."

"You know, your wife is so nice and understanding, I'm just wondering what the hell you did or didn't do to make her look like a storm."

He smirked. "Have a nice night."

"Good luck. Seriously, though, good luck. You'll need it."

He met Andrea by the car, and he frowned when she simply walked to her own car and drove off. He knew she was going home, and he drove after her. This was not going to be pretty. Silent Andrea was worse than literally any other types of Andrea. It was confirmed that she was beyond furious when he walked into the door to find she was _already_ pacing. He didn't have time to take off his jacket before she went at him, and he hoped Keira wasn't at home, because he didn't want her to hear any of this conversation. He didn't even want the cat to hear it.

"I guess my worry was gravely misplaced." Her glower would sent most men cowering. He was used to it, nevertheless he couldn't repress his gulp.

"What worry?"

"For you." She locked eyes with him. "You lied to me."

"When I did lie to you?"

"I called Michonne a couple hours ago, because you weren't returning Keria's calls, and you aren't on the team she assembled to find Carol. She told you that as well. So why in the hell did you tell me _we_ were looking in to when it was really _them_?"

"I... I didn't want you to worry—"

"I'm _already_ worried! And my husband _lying to me_ isn't going to make me worry less!" she interrupted him, a tightness in her voice. "And you're not protecting me! You're protecting yourself!"

"I—"

"I've never lost anybody close to me," Andrea cut him off again. "I've never lost my grandparents, my parents, Amy, the family dog—nobody! Until I met you and Carol." His eyes averted hers. "I'm not saying I regret it. I don't. You are...the entire world to me. Our daughter is the best part of both of us, and I wouldn't trade her for anything. And Carol is the best friend I've ever had. Even after all that happened, she is still the best friend I've ever had, even though I've failed at being there for her."

"Andrea..."

"When I kept telling you...that she might not be missing, that she might actually be on vacation...it was because the last time this happened, I had to watch two of the most important people in my life break—twice. I can't watch you two go through that again, and I kept hoping that if I rationalized it all out then it wouldn't happened, and Carol would be fine. You would be fine." She hugged herself. "I know it was incredibly stupid, and clearly I was wrong. I know she's out there somewhere doing her best to get back to us. I know she'll do everything in her power to get out alive. That's who she is. She's damn tough. She's a survivor. And yet...there's still a high possibility I'm going to have to sit through _another_ funeral."

"You won't have to. Carol's resourceful and tough. Your words. She won't lay down and die, and with all of us looking—"

"I wasn't talking about Carol's funeral."

He looked at her through narrow eyes, trying to think of something to say to that, but he couldn't. There were no words to argue that sentence with. He didn't even _want_ to wrap his head around it. What the hell was she talking about? No, why the hell did she assume that?

"Did you think I didn't notice?" She exhaled heavily. "Caesar, Carol may be the one who was kidnapped and who's been through so much and has continued to going through so much, but you're the one...who just doesn't care."

"What?" he exclaimed. "That's total bullshit! Of course I care!"

"Not about yourself!" she shot back. "You're reckless, and you know you are! Ever since...Sam was killed, you've been on a subconscious death mission! I don't know why! Maybe you blame yourself for not telling Carol to back off. Maybe you blame yourself because you didn't take Sam to the batting cage like you'd planned for weeks. Maybe you think it'll magically give Sam his life back. Maybe because you weren't there period!"

"What are you talking about? I'm _not_ reckless! I take precautions and—and try to—"

"To protect everyone but yourself," she finished. "I saw the look in your eyes when our daughter was born."

"Happiness?"

" _Fear,_ " she corrected. "She's not Sam. She's not in danger. And yet you refuse to been seen with her longer than necessary, because you don't want any enemies you may have to use her against you. And I've seen you sitting in her room some nights just to make sure nothing happens to her."

"Of course I'm concerned about her, but I don't avoid being seen with my daughter. I work, Andrea. I have a very demanding job. You know this. And just because I watch her sleep doesn't mean I'm waiting for someone to bust in and take her from me."

"Then why did you always have your gun?" she snapped then her voice softened, "You stay with her all night. All goddamn night, cradling that damn gun in your hand."

He scoffed, but didn't speak.

"Do you want to die?"

"Of course not!"

"Then you really need to let go of what happened to them."

"I already did, but it's still a part of me, Andrea. Just like it's a part of you and a part of Carol! He was my godson! He was my nephew! And...he deserved better. Christ, he was ten years old..." He bowed his head. "We never should've taken that case."

She noted the way he spoke, as though Sam had been shot just yesterday and not twelve years ago. He hadn't let go. He had never let go. "And Karen? You've been carrying her around since you found her body."

He tensed up. "We're not talking about this again."

She let out a short chuckle, not at all amused. "Again? When have we _ever_ talked about her? You told me about her, and that was it. End of story. Book closed."

"You can be as concerned as you want to be," he spat, "but we're done talking about this and Sam and anything related. I'm going to find Carol before something happens to her. I'd appreciate it if when we get back, you...find somewhere else to be."

"You're kicking me out of my own house?"

"Until you stop thinking that I want to kill myself through the various criminals I encounter, yeah."

"Fine. I'll be with my parents in Florida. I'm taking Keira with me."

"Why? She has school and—"

" _I'm taking Keira with me_ ," she interjected in a hiss. "I'll have her call you when we arrive."

"Good. Have a safe trip. Take care of yourselves."

"You too. If I come back to find out you're dead, Caesar Martinez, I'm kicking your ass."

He stormed out of the house before he said something he regretted, and he barreled down the street to get a good enough distance away from her. Well, he already said something he regretted, and he sure as hell didn't mean it. He needed to calm down and talk to her. He always turned into an asshole when somebody brought up Karen or Sam, especially when it was _both_ of them. He was poor at coping, even though he'd been doing it from a young age. He couldn't lay them to rest for some reason, just like Carol couldn't. Maybe that's why they were close.

He could've stayed mad. He did mad well, but that last thing she said to him... He groaned and ran his hands through his hairs, squeezing his eyes shut and expelling yet another groan. He was angry at himself. There were some truths to what she said. Damn it. He would talk to her when she called from Florida. He couldn't right now. He was too angry, and he would say something even more stupid and hurtful. _No. No._ He needed to apologize to her. This couldn't wait. The last time he thought there would be more time...there wasn't. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

He turned on his heel and jogged back to the house, but when he called to her, she didn't reply. He frowned and searched the house, but she wasn't there. To his dismay, it appeared that she had already left for Florida. She marked on the calendar when she'd be back, and he grabbed the phone to try her cell, but he saw it on the kitchen table. There was no way in hell her father would let him to talk her after this fight. Once she landed, Amy would find out and then Dale would find out. Dale was a very protective father, and he would go out of his way to make sure Andrea didn't have to talk to Caesar until she was ready. He really didn't want to step into that mess with Dale again.

He could only do what he set out to do: bring Carol home. He needed to find Carol and arrest the son of a bitch or sons of bitches that had taken her then he would fly down and work this out with Andrea. They could use a vacation—if she didn't throw him out on his ass. She would do that in a polite way since Keira was with her. Thankfully, he didn't need Keira to think they were getting a divorce. That's the last thing he wanted. God, he owed her an apology, more than that. He hoped Carol could help with that. Or at least give him that silent glare she always gave when he'd been an asshole. Then give that look to Andrea as well. He wasn't the only one who had been in the wrong.

– – –

 _Andrea watched her husband rush out the door, and she swallowed back the sob that had been threatening to break loose the entire fight. She'd tried to tell him all of those things long before tonight, and now she finally had. It didn't feel the way she thought it would. Honestly, keeping it in felt better. There was no going back now. She turned and wrote on the calendar when they would be back before headed upstairs to book their flight. Keira had fallen asleep on their bed an hour ago; Andrea had slipped her half a sleeping pill so she wouldn't wake up to their screaming._

 _Entering her bedroom, she wiped at her eyes and saw that her daughter wasn't on the bed. That wasn't the only surprise. Her eyes moved to the man dressed in all black who held her unconscious little girl in his arms, but before she could react, a meaty hand came over her mouth and a something sharp pierced the skin on her neck._


	12. Smart Little Girl

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

 _Sophia looked up when her teacher called her name, waving her over, and she gathered her things. She knew the drill. Sometimes Dad had to pick her up early from school, and they'd go to somewhere in or out of the US to drop off a "package". Or pick one up. This only started a few years ago. Uncle Merle got them connected to somebody out of the states, and so she missed school sometimes. It was fine though. Noah helped her with her work, and he'd turn it in for her and pick up her other work. He was so nice. She didn't want him to leave in a few months, but of course he had to. He had his own career._

 _She adjusted her backpack and frowned when the usual car wasn't out front. She noticed a black van getting closer and narrowed her eyes. She reached for the pepper spray in her blazer pocket, but by then a man stood behind her in a suit, and he set a hand on her shoulder._

 _"Sophia."_

 _"Who are you?" She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice, but she could feel the gun on his belt on her shoulder._

 _"We're gonna go for a little drive."_

 _"I don't want to." Her legs wouldn't move, and her heart was racing._

 _"Too bad." He slipped the needle into her neck and caught her before she hit the ground. He gathered her up and got into the car, placing her in the seat beside him. He spoke to the man driving, and Sophia could hear rattling like handcuffs. She didn't dare let them see her cry, so she focused only on what was outside. She saw the school shrinking before she blacked out completely._

 _––_

 _She woke up in the trunk of a car, completely restrained, and she was missing her blazer. She was thirsty, her throat so dry it hurt, and her legs were sore from being in this position for however long they had been. She couldn't move an inch, and she didn't know why they felt they had to do this. She was ten and not that strong. What the heck was she going to do? She couldn't scream, even if she hadn't been gagged. So why all of this? Were they really that scared of her?_

 _She looked around the trunk and noted it had been specially made for her. It was spacious, not that it mattered when she was confined to a small corner, and there was thick, tinted glass between her and the backseat. She couldn't see who was on the other side if anybody was there, and they couldn't see her. The same glass surrounded her on the other three sides. They had thought this through._

 _She couldn't hear anything, but she knew they were parked. It was getting really hot back here, and she tried to move just a tiny bit to see if she could. She winced at how tight the bindings were and closed her eyes. She didn't know why this was happening. She didn't know why anybody would use her to get to Daddy. He pretty much made himself known all the time. Getting him would be a lot simpler than kidnapping her. She was good leverage however. Maybe they wanted something he had, or perhaps Daddy took something of theirs and they want it back._

 _She swallowed, trying to gather saliva, but she couldn't. She felt like her tongue had swollen up ten sizes. She wanted to go home. She should have ran when the guy touched her. Or screamed for her teacher or the security guard who was on duty. She didn't. She just froze up. That's the worse thing that she could have done. She didn't even try to help herself. God, she had been preparing for that moment since she was nine. She made Noah help her with it so she could be ready. She didn't tell Dad or Uncle Merle. They would have had a fit, so she made Noah help her. Axel too. It was useless. She knew they wouldn't hurt her so it was easy to run. She didn't know what this guy was going to do, so of course she froze up._

 _What did he want with her? What if it didn't involve Dad at all? Wait, how did they get her out of school? They knew that only Dad can sign her out. Uncle Merle wasn't even allowed to, and for emergencies only Noah and BT were allowed to pick her up, but Dad had to call or send a text first or something like that. She didn't really know, but he had worked it out with one of his men who he put in this school to watch out for her. Why didn't he notice? Why didn't he stop her? Did he betray them? Or did these guys get to him first? Oh, no, was he dead?_

 _Tears sprang up in her eyes. No, no, no no. That's the only way they could have done this. They killed him. Why would that do that? He was a good man. He brought Sophia lunch when she forgot hers. He donated money when the school had charity events. He helped out the teachers whenever they needed it. He was so nice. Why would they do that? God, please don't let him be dead. Please, please don't let him dead!_

 _She sobbed softly, praying that he was alive, and she struggled in the restrains. She wanted to go home. She wanted none of this to have happened. She felt more angry than anything. These snakes were so pathetic that they had to possibly kill a man and kidnap her rather than try and talk it out. Why was wrong with them? Why were they like that? How could they just kill a good man and kidnap a child to get what they wanted? She wasn't a violent person, but she wanted to punch the jerk that did this._

 _There was a click sound that caught her attention, and she sniffed, looking around as best she could. She saw a small camera clipped onto the ceiling, along with what may have been a bug. They were listening to her right now. And watching. If she could reach it, she'd smashed them both. Jerks! The lot of them!_

 _The trunk opened, she scrambled back, whimpering when the cuffs cut in to her, and the man who had touched her shoulder held his hand out. He loosened the binds and produced a bottle of water from pack across from her. He offered it to her, and he looked like he had tried this before, like he was pleading her to take it with his eyes. She didn't remember. Maybe he did try and give her water before when he was doing this to her._

 _She didn't take it._

 _"Honey, you gotta drink sometime."_

 _She just stared at him, trying to burn his face in to her memory. He was in a black suit with a white button down. There was no tie. She would have yanked it off if he had a tie. He had a gun on his belt and her pepper spray. He had on a nice watch, probably white gold, and she thought she caught part of an engraving on it. He had light brown hair, pulsating green eyes, shaved chin, and he was pale. He didn't see the sun much._

 _Her moist, red-rimmed eyes stared back at him, her cheeks sore from the gag that dried her tongue and made it feel swollen; her wrists were raw, bruising from the tight cuffs the man named Joe had slapped on her once her guard was down outside her school. Her uniform was wrinkled around her, the chains that linked the cuffs together wrapped around her ankles, and she couldn't move all that well. She knew what kind of man he was. She knew what he might do. Her father never told her about the men he knew or made angry in his line of work, but she wasn't a baby. She knew. She heard things from Noah and Axel that she probably shouldn't have, so she knew. She wasn't going to take anything from these men, no matter what they said. No offer would make her give up her resolve. That was all she had now. That and faith that her dad was coming._

 _"Fine, be pigheaded." He stepped back. "Just like your dad."_

 _She lifted her chin so that she could only see him if she looked down. She had seen her uncle do this many times, and she knew her uncle well enough to know what she was doing, what she was telling him. He was beneath her. To use her to get what he wanted was something a coward did. The strong made an alliance, build up the weak and keep the strong from trying to revolt. They make peace. They make each other strong and safe. That's how Daddy did it. That's how she knew he was the exact opposite. Cowards use and they take. She hadn't seem many, but she had read plenty._

 _He closed the trunk, and she exhaled frantically, her knees shaking, and she closed her eyes, more tears falling free. She could act as brave as she wanted, but she was really scared. What was going to happen? Did he even call Dad to try and strike a trade? Did Dad even know? Oh, God, what was he going through right now? Dad wasn't good at stuff like this. He must be so scared too. He's probably binge eating or worse. He didn't drink or do drugs. He stopped when she was born, and he'd even tattooed her birth date and name on his chest—a visual promise. Daddy always kept his promises. His word, his loyalty, was all he had to offer and he never broke it. She loved him for that, admire him for that. She hoped he was okay, that he had somebody to be there with him. Uncle Merle would rage, and he wouldn't think about how this was affecting Daddy. He needed someone who would think of his well being. Noah would. Miss Sasha would. They wouldn't involve her. It'd be too risky._

 _Please let somebody be there for him for once. Please, please don't let him go through this alone. Daddy was strong, but not all the time, and he needed someone who could be strong enough for both of them in that time. Please, God, please._

 _She struggled a little in the bindings out of frustration. She sobbed herself in to exhaustion, and eventually her swollen eyes fell and dragged her into a dreamless sleep._

––

She inhaled deeply, the scent of roses and honey flooding her nose, and she shot up. She was in a bedroom that was like hers, only it belonged to another little girl and it's main color was blue. She saw a picture of her on the nightstand, her photoed smile greeting her, and Sophia frowned, heart pounding as fear washed over her anew.

She slid off the bed and ran to the door, trying to open it, but it was locked. Of course it was locked. She had to make sure. She stumbled back and tried the windows, but upon opening one and looking down, she discovered she was way to far up to jump. The blanket ladder thing wouldn't work either. He had dogs. Big, toothy dogs.

She collapsed onto the floor with her back against the wall, and she covered her face with her hands. This was real. She had been kidnapped. It wasn't a dream. She knew it wasn't, but she really had hoped it was her bedroom she'd woken up in. Crap.

The door opened, and her head snapped up. It was an older woman with long, light brown hair that was braided to the side, and she held a tray of food for her. She looked kind and had a warm smile. Maybe was his mother or something. Maybe she would get her out of here. Or not, because why send in someone who might help the prisoner?

"I brought you something."

"I'm not hungry." She didn't move.

"You don't have to eat."

"Who was he?"

She didn't answer. "There's a change of clothes in the drawers."

"Where am I?" Sophia repeated as the woman began to leave, and she followed her only to meet a slamming door. "Hey! Where am I?! Who took me?!" She pounded her hands on the door and groaned.

There was a loud thud on the other side, she gasped and backed away from door, and it flew open. A man with longish white hair entered. He had a beard, not a really big bushy one but still a beard a little whiter than his hair. He was a really big guy, and he looked...really mean, with a scar on his face and everything. He had one dark blue jeans with a black shirt with a skull on the breast and a denim vest. He looked familiar.

Wait, this was Joe. She remember someone calling him that when he tightened the cuffs on her ankles. That wasn't a reassuring thing. He looked at her like she was a meal, and her skin was crawling. She didn't know why he was looking at her like that, but it wasn't normal. She just knew it was wrong. A scream pushed up her throat when her back hit a dresser, but before it escaped, someone interrupted them.

"Joe." A man behind them called. "Let me handle the girl. I need you to check on shipment."

He gave Sophia smile and left without a word.

The man closed the door behind Joe and gave her a kinder, more paternal smile. "I'm glad you're awake."

"I'm not."

He laughed a little. "Why don't you try and eat something? You've been asleep for a...long time now."

"How long? What day is it?"

He sat on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I'd _feel_ a lot better if people would answer my questions."

"It's barely been a day," he answered. "Now, eat something. At least try the soup."

"How do I know it's not poisoned? Or drugged?"

"There's no point in drugging you, Sophia. You're already where I want you. I'm not going to kill you. You don't understand the purpose of leverage, do you?"

"I do, but I know men like you. I don't have to be alive after the first phone call. Or whenever you let me talk to my father."

"Smart girl, but I don't kill kids. My men don't either."

"You just kidnapped a kid. Why is killing one any worse? You've killed adults, so why not kids?"

"Because I've lost a kid myself," he informed her. "I won't do that to somebody else, not even a son of a bitch like the Archer."

"Don't call him that!" she hissed.

"I'll call him whatever I want." He pointed to her. "I'm going to get back what that bastard took from me, and you're going to help me do it."

"I won't help you hurt my dad!"

"I didn't say hurt, now did I? If you do what I tell you, and that ignorant, backwater hick doesn't try anything, I'll let you go back to him."

"That easy?"

"That easy."

"All right. Say, I believe you...what do you want me to do?"

"I just need you to get back something that was taken from me."

"So a trade then?" He looked surprised at how quickly she'd gotten there. "Me for what was taken?"

"Exactly."

"What was taken?"

"You'll find out soon enough." He gestured to the tray. "The soup is delicious. My grandmother's recipe. My daughter loved it. A change of clothes just in the middle drawer. They should fit. If you'll excuse me, Sophia."

She crossed her arms. "How do you know my name?"

"I know everybody's name," was all he said, opening the door.

"I don't know yours." She met his eyes. "What do I call you?"

"My men call me the Governor."

"I'm not one of your men."

"You may call me Phillip."

"Phillip?"

He nodded. "Mary will be back to pick up the tray in half an hour. I hope you've eaten something from it by then." He left the room and locked the door.

She looked over the food on the tray, seeing only a spoon. She couldn't anything to protect herself, so she went through the drawers, hoping to find scissors or a loose screw or a hand mirror—anything she could use as weapon. She had to get out of here, and while she wasn't strong, she could run. It was all she had. She could run and try to get to a phone or something. She knew she wasn't making it off the grounds, but she didn't have to. If she could get to a computer or cell phone or house phone, she would be in better shape than she was in now. There was no way he was going to keep his word and get her home safely. Dad would kill him—actually kill him—for kidnapping her, and he had to know that, so she had to get herself out before Dad died trying. Or worse.

Dad was smart and had loyal men, but she knew about the Governor. Her friends talked about him and how high his body count was. Or how their neighbor's brother's son had just joined him. Or that he'd gotten so and so out of jail. He had the numbers, and they were all dangerous. Axel and Big Tiny and Noah weren't fighters, not all-out, guns blazing, headshot fighters. Abe and Oscar were just two men. And the others who worked with Dad only worked with him, not for him. They could easily be persuaded to join the Governor or to just not fight at all. There were a lot of gangs in New York. This was going to turn in to a war, wasn't it?

She emptied the bottom drawer to the nightstand and discovered a false bottom. She found a stash of a caramel creams. She sighed and sat back. There was nothing. Darn it. She ran her fingers over the candies and took one, giving it a close inspection before she ate it. It didn't taste funny, so she grasped a handful and slipped them into her pocket then replaced everything inside.

The tray of food caught her attention then, and she remembered what he said. She grasped the toasted bread and headed to the window, seeing the dogs below. She tossed chucks of bread down at them until it was gone then peered out the window at the yard and the fence. She wouldn't be able to climb that. She couldn't even climb the rope in gym. Or do a pull up. How was she going to get out of this? She had some brains but sometimes a little brawn helped. She didn't have any. Daddy had brawn and brains. Maybe he would figure this all out too. Maybe he already was on his way. She hoped so.

A warm breeze blew over her and through her messy red hair, cooling the tears that fell from her eyes, and she shuddered, burying her face in her overlapped arms. She sank back inside and her back hit the dresser, knocking over a photo of Phillip's daughter, shattering the glass. She gasped, rolled onto her knees and touched the broken pieces of glass still in the frame. Of course! She had a weapon all around her!

She rubbed her eyes dry and removed the back of the frame to push the glass out. She then swept the rest of the glass under the dresser and put the photo back. They might not notice until it was too late. She had to take the risk. She couldn't just sit here and be defenseless.

With a relatively large portion of glass tucked into the pocket of her pleated skirt, she made sure her shirt was tucked in properly so that reaching the glass would be effortless. Her uniform didn't require a tie, but if it did, she could have used that on the glass so she didn't cut herself with it. She had to use part of the pillowcase, so it still worked. And if her tie went missing, they'd probably notice, so it was better this way.

She had some luck on her side. She hoped Dad did too, wherever he was.

– – –

She had fallen asleep on the floor by the window, and someone roughly grabbed her by the arm, and she jerked awake to find two angry eyes. She couldn't really see, because it was the middle of the night, so she frantically grabbed at the glass in her pocket while kicking at whoever was grabbing at her. She managed to get a hold of the glass when she was yanked onto her feet, and she blindly cut at the man who had a tight hold of her forearm.

He groaned. "What the fuck?" He saw the glass reflect the moonlight and smacked it out of her hand. "You little bitch."

It was Joe.

"Let go of me!"

He lifted her off the ground by her waist and dropped her on the bed, causing her to hit her head against the wall, and while it hurt, she could only focus on the panic raising in her throat the sound of his zipper being undone. She tried to move back but he had grasped her legs, and she screamed. She didn't know if anybody would help her, but it was the only thing she could do. His grip on her was too tight, so she couldn't kick him away, and when he pulled her down to him, she couldn't push him at all. He was too solid.

She struggled as his weight pushed her further in to the bed when he got on top of her, trying to use her knees, but it was utterly pointless. She didn't know what was happening, but she wanted it to stop. She needed it to stop, but she couldn't stop it herself. She wasn't strong enough to stop him, and her screams weren't getting her anywhere. There was nothing she could do to stop this. She screamed again, louder this time, feeling something on her thigh.

Suddenly a gun fired, Joe was no longer on top of her, and there was a light in the room. Phillip was there along with Mary and another young man. Sophia had curled up on the bed, sobbing deeply, and Mary went to sooth her. Phillip and Joe were having a heated argument, and Mary called to the boy in the hall. His name was Alex.

He picked Sophia up after a short struggle, but she knew he wasn't going to hurt her, not like Joe had been trying to hurt her. Mary guided them down the hall to her bedroom, and had Alex wet a cloth. He handed it to her. Mary couldn't get her to stop crying, so she set the moistened cloth on her neck and rubbed her back. Alex left the room to get the girl some new clothes, and Mary continued to sooth her.

When her sobs finally died down to shudders and gasps, Sophia could hear music in the room. It was really pretty and foreign, and it made her feel a little better. She didn't know what Joe was doing, and she couldn't think about it. She couldn't even try. She could feel her lunch rise up in her throat when she tried to think about it.

"Let's get you out of those clothes." Mary smoothed down her hair. "I'll let you change."

Sophia stood now in the bathroom with a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt and gray hoodie. She stared at her reflection, seeing the beginning of a bruise in the shape of his hand over her mouth, her wrists and even on her ankles. The back of her head was tender, and she winced when she brushed her hair out, using the comb Mary had left on top of her the clothes.

She washed her face, scrubbing as if she could scrub the bruise off her face. When she stopped, she saw how red her chin was, and she suddenly felt completely unclean. She looked at the shower beside her, seeing there was tub further down, and she could smell the cleaner that had just been used in it. She locked the bathroom door and tossed her uniform into a pile before taking a shower in excruciatingly hot water, trying to sear the bruises and smell of him off of her. She buried her face in her knees, rocking herself and digging her nails in as the water burned against her exposed skin, turning her sensitive, pale skin an angry shade of red.

– – –

"Where is she?" Phillip requested.

"She's taking a shower," Mary fumed. "What were you thinking?"

"All he was supposed to do was bring her to the car. She cut him, and—"

"That excuses it?!"

"No, of course not!"

"If I see him around here, I'll kill him. I don't care what you say, I will shot him on sight."

"You don't have to. He's not here anymore." He looked at the bathroom door. "That's a lot of steam. Is she all right?"

"She locked the door. I don't know how she is."

"Are you kidding? Goddamn, you let her lock you out?!" He pressed an ear to the door and listened, but he couldn't hear anything. He moved back and was about to kick the door down when Sophia opened it. She was wearing the clothes Mary had laid out for her, and she hurried over to Mary to get away from him, and Mary put an arm around her shoulder protectively. Phillip knelt down in front of her, hands up with his palms showing, and she glanced at him. "It's all right, Sophia. He won't be around here anymore. I'm so sorry that happened."

She said nothing.

"You're going to stay with Mary here, and I'm going to meet your father soon." He watched as a look that told him she wanted to say something crossed her face, but she still said nothing. "Why don't you get comfortable? Alex and Mary will take care of you. You're safe now. I promise."

She turned away from him, and Phillip cut a look to Mary before he left the room, going to his car to meet with Gareth.

"I'll make you something hot to drink." She smiled sweetly at Sophia. "Do you like warm milk?"

"I'm fine." She curled up on the bed.

"I used to be Phillip's daughter's nanny." Mary took a seat beside her. "Her name was Penny. She was a lovely child. Well-mannered, a little quiet, but very kind and incredibly smart."

"What happened to her?"

"She died."

"I'm sorry," Sophia said to her. "You must have been close."

She nodded.

"If you don't mind me asking...how did she die?"

Mary swallowed hard. "Phillip has a dangerous job, just like your father. His wife and daughter took a hit that was meant for him."

"What do you mean, a hit? Like what he's doing to me?"

"No, darling, not like you." She met her eyes. "You aren't going to die here, Sophia. You're not."

"Sure, I'm not." She bit her bottom lip. "So...what happened to them?"

"There was a bomb planted in the car Phillip was supposed to drive, but Penny was running late for school, and the car was already out front. When Elizabeth started the car... Well, you know what happened."

She nodded, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too. She was fourteen. She never had a chance to even life at fourteen." She shook her head, hand over her mouth.

Sophia felt bad for her. This was obviously a very fresh wound, but so were the bruises and cuts on Sophia. She needed to know exactly what was going to happen next, and Mary was being very chatty right now. It must be guilt, or maybe just human kindness. She wasn't like the others. At least not so far. "Why am I here? Shouldn't I be with Phillip when he goes to meet my dad?"

"He'll bring him back here, I think. It'll be easier that way."

"It'd be easier if he'd just accepted his loss and moved on."

"He's never been the type to move on."

"Clearly." She buried her face in her knees. "I just wanna go home."

"You'll be home sooner than you think."

Sophia wasn't listening to her anymore. She just rocked herself gently on the bed and kept thinking about her dad and what he was doing at this exact moment. She was scared for him and herself now. She didn't want to be left alone here with that...thing roaming. Phillip never said he got rid of him, just that he wouldn't be around anymore. If Phillip kept men like that around...Phillip was very similar to him. She had to get out of there, and she didn't care about how badly wounded she got. She was getting out— _before_ Phillip came back. And she hoped that Dad made that son of a bitch pay for what he was doing to both of them and for what his man tried to do to her.


	13. New Hostages

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Andrea woke up in a room that was guarded by two men with guns, their eyes on her, and she shook her head to try and clear the haze of whatever they had injected her with. She didn't recognize the men before her at all, but she had a strong feeling they were related to what happened to Carol. And Caesar had led them to Andrea and Keira then just ran out. Good, because at least he's not here too. Bad, because he has no fucking clue this happened to them. He probably thinks they're in Florida. Damn, they were good.

"Where's my daughter?" Andrea commanded.

The thinner of the two with dark black hair looked at her curiously, and she could tell he was the more cowardly of the two, and the other one just looked annoyed. He was the arrogant one. They were a perfect pair, though she wasn't sure which one would succeed in trying to ditch the other in a gunfight to die.

"Look, you pathetic sons of bitches, you'll tell me where my daughter is—"

The arrogant one slammed the butt of his gun into her jaw. "Shut the fuck up."

"Not until I know where my daughter is." She spat blood out on to the floor at his feet. "Where is she?"

"She's down the hall," the cowardly one replied. "Don't worry. She's in good hands."

"She'd better be just well as she was before you took us, or I will beat the shit out of you."

The arrogant one laughed, and the coward laughed weakly, like he wasn't sure if she was being serious or not. "You're the one who's tied up." Arrogant Joe leaned over and rattled the bindings on her feet, smirking at her like she was a doll that belonged to him, which didn't sit well with her at all, so she head butted him. "Fuck!"

"Dwight!" He helped him to his feet. "I told you not to antagonize her!"

"Get off me!" He shoved him away and his nose bleed. "You fucking bitch."

"Enough!" Another man entered the room. "Get out of here, both of you."

"She—"

"—clearly is too much for you," he finished. "Out."

The arrogant one grumbled and left after his friend, and the other man, who oddly wore a suit, walked over to her. He moved hair out of her face and gripped her jaw roughly, and she held back a wince. He smirked at her and released her jaw.

"Your little girl's just fine. She's still asleep. We'll bring her in here in a bit. Right now, we need you to do us a favor."

"No."

"See, Andrea, you don't have a choice here. Either you do the favor, or we'll kill your husband and your little girl and then finally you." He locked eyes with her. "And just before I kill you, I'll toss in their bodies so it's the last thing you see."

She clenched her jaw. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want your friend and her little friend."

"Carol?"

"Yes, Carol. You're going to walk these streets and call to your friend. She's around here somewhere with the Archer, and I need you to draw them out. We'll have Keira do the same, and you can even be with her."

"You're the ones who kidnapped Carol?"

"No, no. We're the ones that kidnapped Carol and her kidnapper. He's an...enemy of mine, and I need him to...finish a deal."

"Why? What deal?"

"That's none of your concern, Mrs. Martinez. We'll take you out in a moment."

"You'll just kill us," Andrea called to him. "I've seen your face, so you won't let us live."

"Yeah, you've seen my face, but you don't know who I am, so my face is meaningless to you. Once I have Carol and Daryl, I'll drop you two off at home." He smiled. "You have my word."

She nodded and rolled her eyes when he left the room. She would have to get them out of there when they took her to lure out Carol. She'd have to find Keira on the way. She didn't like this place, but luckily she wasn't unprepared. She wasn't going to be bait for Carol, and all that mattered was getting Keira out of this in one piece. If she had to die to do that then so be it, but her daughter would not die here.

––

Keira could hear people talking in the room with her, and from the cold metal underneath her, she wasn't in bed with her mom and dad. Her heart began to race, but she stayed still and didn't open her eyes. She knew something bad had happened, but she didn't know why or how. She had never felt so scared before. She wanted her mom. Where was her mom? Or Daddy? Where were they? Close by? Far away? Was she alone?

Phillip noticed the young girl who was sleeping soundlessly on the metal table Tomas had to clean off and toss a sheet over was breathing heavily. He excused himself from the conversation and carefully crept over to her.

"Keira?"

She shot up and scrambled away from him, but only ended up falling on the floors. She cried out from the sudden fall and gripped her ankle. What was going on?

"Hey, hey, hey." He slowly bent down beside her. "It's okay. I'm a friend of your dad's."

"No, you're not. I know all of my parents' friends." Her back came flush against a cold wall. "You're not family either. Who are you? Where are my parents?"

"Smart kid." He inhaled. Great, another one. "You want to see your mom? Come with me. I'll take you to her."

"Can't she come to us?"

"She's a little...tied up right now, so we have to go to her." He held out his hand.

She ignored it and stood up, wincing when she added weight to her ankle. "Where?"

He rose and guided her down the hall to where Andrea was being held. He opened the door, she ran and hugged her mom, and he leaned in the doorway. The young girl swore a white nightgown with a purple floral pattern. That was all, apart from undergarments. He didn't like to risk a children's lives, but if he had to do it then Andrea's baby girl would spend a little time in a refrigerated truck. She wouldn't last long at her weight. If Andrea tried anything, that's the fate her daughter would meet.

"It's okay." Andrea wanted to hold and comfort Keira, but her hands were bound behind her back. "I'm here."

"See, everybody's okay." Phillip pulled the door shut. "For now." He revealed a syringe, and if he used it on Keira, it would ultimately kill her. She was too small for that dosage.

She looked at with such intense hate, and he just smiled. "I already agreed."

"I know, but a little incentive doesn't hurt."

She whispered into her daughter's ear, and Keira covered them. "If you lay one finger on her, I'll make you eat that fucking syringe and every other one I find before I blow your goddamn head off."

"Charming." He jerked Keira away from her and the tip of the needle was only an inch from her neck, and Andrea jolted forward. "Don't forget who's in control here, Andrea."

"You'd kill a little girl?" Andrea hissed. "She's seven years old, you prick!"

"That's up to you, Andrea. You try anything, and I'll kill her. If you're good, you both go home. If you try to be heroic and scream for help—I assure you, none will come—I'll put little Keira into a refrigerated truck where she'll slowly freeze to death. If you try and run together, the last thing she'll know is the sting of this needle and the sight of your bloody, dead body."

"Fine." She spoke through clenched teeth, still struggling against the bindings. "If I do this, I want her with me. I won't call out for anybody but Carol. I swear."

"You're swearing on her life. You can't break that." He gently stroked Keira's chin then grasped her throat tightly. "Trust me when I say you don't want to break that swear."

"I won't! I won't!"

He tossed Keira into the corner of the room. "I'll be back."

Keira sobbed softly and rushed over to her mom, and Andrea could only hold her by pressing her chin in to her shoulder. She had no choice here. It was them or Carol and whatever the hell he wanted. She didn't want to throw Carol to the wolves, but if it could save Keira...or at least give Andrea a small window of opportunity to get Keira out of there, she had to take it. Her baby had to live. She had to. It's what Carol would want as well.

"Shh." Andrea kissed Keira's cheek, unable to do much more to sooth her sobs. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving you."

Where the fuck was Caesar?

– – –

"They're professionals." Martinez drank his coffee. "They were in and out. They didn't show on any cameras."

"Carol's building has cameras?" Rosita's brows raised. "That old ass building? Are you sure they weren't just decoration?"

"No, they work. Sorta. They run on Beta."

"Well, heh. There's a word I haven't heard used without wolves being involved in a long time." She smirked. "They probably took the stairs. I doubt they left prints."

Caesar cleared his throat. "I know a guy. I'm meeting with him later. He'll be able to help us."

"Because all great plans begin with "I know a guy". Caesar, this isn't a bunch of freshmen scrambling to bring beer to a party—this is Carol's life. We need to _know_ this man can and will help us without throwing us under a bus. We need to be careful. Pros like this don't come cheap." She opened her tablet to her latest project. "Now, I've tracked all of Carol's cases in the past few years, and there _too_ many people who could have done this. Seriously, a dangerously large number of people. She can't afford for us to lazy with this."

"He'll help, Rosita. I've thought this through. I know what I'm doing."

"Okay. I have some good news too."

"What?"

"Well, I noticed Carol was wearing the pearl earrings I've gotten her for Christmas."

His face scrunched. "What? How could you notice? She's _missing_."

"I put a tracker in them."

"You—Why didn't you tell me this before?!"

"Because I couldn't locate her. Someone or something was jamming the signal, but not anymore. I just managed to locate it. She lost one of them at this location." She turned over her tablet. "And the other one is broken. I can't find it at all."

"Okay. This is good. Let's go check it out."

"You'd better bring your gun."

"I always do."

––

They arrived at the location where Carol had lost her earring. Caesar told Rosita to hang back, because she had neither a vest nor a gun on her. She waited until he was out of sight before she went and looked for the earring. She found it close to the house along with tire tracks. She took a picture and bagged the earring. She headed back to the car before Caesar spotted her and gave her hell. Like he could keep her in the car without disabling her—she knew how to work around handcuffs. He may even learn how to do it himself. Or not. He wasn't very...limber. At least not from what'd she seen. Poor man. He was a bull in a china shop.

Caesar checked the perimeter, not understanding why Carol would be out here. What was Carol doing here? She wasn't dirty. Or using drugs. The woman was a fit as a fiddle according to the files her doctor kept on her. None of her or their cases involved the man who lived here, not even her personal life. Carol had no blood-relatives out here, and she didn't have a boyfriend. So why here? What was really going on?

His eyes swept over and locked onto a black SUV semi-hidden. He saw legs hanging out of the car and readied his gun, calling to the person, but there was no response.

Closing in, he found the body of a younger white man with dark hair. There was blood in the passenger seat, and a lot of it. He checked the backseat and saw a bag of weapons. He pulled the pen from his pocket and moved the zipper back as he didn't have any spare gloves, and he didn't want to contaminate the crime scene. He couldn't do much, but he saw a knife with a familiar insignia on it. The Archer. That was his mark.

He cursed and called it in. He didn't understand. They never stepped on his toes, not once. Shepard was the only one who got close to him and the Governor's bullshit war. Carol stayed out of it, and most of his kills were cold cases or still ongoing. They hadn't caught him or any of his men. Why would he go after Carol? She was nothing to him. Wasn't she?

"You said you worked on some of Carol's cases," he started the car.

Rosita nodded. "Why?"

"The Archer kidnapped her. She must have gotten one of his men. Or someone close to him. We should hurry. He's as dangerous as the Governor."

"This could take a while. Her entire life is a long string of cases."

"Well, now we do it my way."

"Don't get smug. There'll be no working with you. We don't even know if it'll work."

"Why don't you let me buy you dinner?"

"I don't get to pick where, do I?"

"No. I hope you Italian."

– – –

Keira had just calmed down when Arrogant and Cowardly Joe returned to the room. Arrogant Joe hauled her roughly up by her armpits and held her a few feet from the ground just because he could. It was then that Andrea decided she was going to bash his balls in so hard that he chocked on them and died.

The coward removed the cuffs on Andrea's hands and legs. "If you attack, she dies."

"I know," she retorted, eyes burning holes in the asshole's face.

He freed her. "Follow me."

"Give her to me." Andrea took her daughter from the arrogant asshole and held her close, finally soothing her.

He gathered a handful of Andrea's hair and yanked her back to him, pressing a gun to her forehead. "If you think I won't get you back for before, you're wrong."

"Dwight!" The coward barked, not approving of what he was doing. "We need to get going."

He shoved her, almost causing her to fall. "Move."

"Mommy." Keira wrapped her arms around her tightly.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here." She rubbed her back and checked the place out as they shuffled through the halls. It was dank, and most of the walls had been made after this place was built. You could tell by the look of them. They were built to be use purposefully for torture and kidnappings. How lovely. Bastards. She would endure anything they threw her way, but she wasn't going to let her daughter get so much as a scratch. She wouldn't...end up like Sam. No, never.

As they neared the end of the hall, the coward peered back at them and Dwight and moved aside. Dwight gave Andrea push just enough for her to loosen her grip on Keira, and Phillip took the girl. Andrea instantly lunged, but Dwight clasped her arms and held her back.

"What the hell are you doing?" Andrea demanded. "I said I would help!"

"Collateral." He swept a hand down the next hall. "After you."

Dwight released her, Andrea tripped forward and sent him a glare, and he just looked her with laughing eyes. Only Andrea and Phillip continued down this hall, and she knew he didn't need a weapon while he held Keira. How was this going to play out? How was she going to work this to her advantage?

Andrea noticed dried blood on the floor, and she avoided it, seeing it more and more. She felt her stomach twist. Was that Carol's blood? If she was bleeding this much, how did they not track her down by now? Unless they didn't want to do it like that. If they had Andrea and Keira, two people she loved and would die to protect, they could control her easy. She would do whatever they wanted her to do and then some. If this was really about finding Carol, they would have just brought in dogs to locate her. They weren't going home when this was over. Not a single one of them. At least they would be together. And maybe Carol could help get Keira out. They were both very intelligent, resourceful women, and they could get her little girl out of here.

They exited the building, Andrea squinted at the sudden light, and Phillip pulled a gun from his belt, aiming it at the young girl's stomach. Andrea's mouth dried out as he took point and she fell in line behind him. They followed the blood trail for two, maybe three blocks, and Andrea was impressed at how far Carol had gotten. She was damn tough. If they made it out of this, Andrea was buying...uh, dinner and alcohol-free champagne. They were toasting.

"Go ahead." He turned to Andrea. "Call to her."

Her eyes locked on her pale little girl, who was shaking in the grasp of the armed stranger, and Andrea reached out and cupped her cheeks, making her look in to her eyes. "I'm right here, baby. I'm right here."

She nodded.

She lowered her hands and stepped toward the street, trying to moisten her mouth. She drew in a breath and called, "Carol?"

"Louder."

"Carol!" She shouted. "Carol! P—please, respond! Carol!" She could hear her voice echoing as she called over and over, her fear increasing with her tone. _"CAROL!"_

––

Carol sat in the other room, pressing her thumbs into her thigh to try and alleviate the tightness in her muscles. She could hear Daryl's snoring. He'd lost a lot of blood, but he was still alive. He was drained, and she'd suggested he try and get some actual sleep since there was nothing else they could do for him. He fought until he eventually blacked out. They hadn't really spoken since their fight, just her suggestion, and Carol was about ready to move. It had only been a few hours maybe since they escaped. She wasn't sure. It was all blurry without a proper watch. She was so ready to be out of here and to find Sophia. She wanted this case to be closed.

She heard something in the distant and pulled herself up, rushing to the window. "No."

It was a voice. A voice filled with fright that was being carried by the wind to where Carol and Daryl were hiding out. Carol would know that voice anywhere. She knew that tone as well. It was Andrea. From the stress and panic clinging to the name she was screaming, they had Keira. Caesar was a grown man who could defend himself. She wouldn't be that fearful it if it were Caesar. And a seven year old was a lot easier to transport than a forty-six year old man.

She couldn't see them, but they were getting closer. She had to act. She wouldn't let Keira end up like Sam. She wouldn't let Andrea be Rick. No. No, they were both getting out of there alive. She just needed to time this correctly.

 _"CAROL!"_ Andrea shouted.

She saw Andrea's gray and white stripped hoodie and dark jeans then Andrea's face and a man who was holding Keira. She ran to the chair and climbed out the window. Edging along the wall, she poked her head out slightly, seeing them and a few men behind them. She only had two bullets left in her gun, but that didn't matter. If she shot once, they would be on her. She had to make this bullet count.

She quickly made a decision of where to shoot that would benefit them both then she pulled the trigger for all hell to break loose.

It all unraveled in about a minute. The bullet lodged into the man's back, he jerked forward and Keira was dropped; Andrea scooped her up and ran away, and Phillip's men tried to get her. However Carol used the last bullet to take out the man nearest to them. They came for her then, and she hurried back into the building to warn Daryl. Phillip collected himself and watched Andrea and Keira flee, picking up his gun, and he decided to let them go. By the time they came back, there would be nothing left for them to find. And he was a man of his word. They had done their job and were free to go. At least for now.

"Get the gas," Phillip commanded his men, heading to get that refrigerated truck and removing the bullet-proof vest. Bitch was a good shot. Let's see how well she shot with no hands.

Carol slipped back inside, grabbing the chair and bashing it in to the wall so it'd break. She tossed Daryl a large portion of the leg and gripped hers firmly in her hand. She could see he was disoriented, so she filled in the blanks for him, and he covered her back.

"They get away?" Daryl gripped the piece of wood.

"I think so." She was still panting.

"Good. You did the right thing."

"I know."

Standing back to back, they prepared themselves for a fight. Daryl's heart was racing in his chest from being woken up by a gunshot and Carol screaming at him, but he was still ready and only slightly able to fight. He had no choice but to be. As for Carol, she had slowed her breathing and was just waiting for them to bust in the door and come flooding in. For Andrea and Keira, it was worth it. Whether it was dying or punishment, it was worth it so they had a chance to escape and live.

The window they had entered the wind was covered with wood and bolted in to place. Carol lowered her weapon and listened closely. A soft hissing escaped the vents in the morgue, Carol covered her mouth and nose instantly, and Daryl aped her.

"What is that?"

"R-22." She searched the room. "They—they must have pumped it into the building through the air conditioning. We'll be dizzy in ten seconds, unconscious in forty."

"Shit." He spotted one of the vents, but there was no possible way for them to reach it. "Shit!"

The room began to tilt, Carol dropped her weapon to the floor, the dizziness settling in, and she lowered her hand, letting it take her. There was no way they could fight this. They were trapped, and if they went easy, it might buy Andrea and Keira more time. She could only hope that was true as the world went dark.


	14. A Tender Moment

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Andrea had run as far as she could as long as she could, having to make Keira run on bare feet with a sprained ankle from time to time, but eventually they found people again. No one was following them, and it terrified her more than if they were. Them not following meant they were busy finding Carol, hurting her. Killing her even. She called Caesar at a gas station. He came and brought Michonne's team with him. She was just grateful they came quickly. The man working the counter had been very kind and gave them free drinks since Andrea had no money on her.

He ran into the building. "Andrea!"

She walked over to him and embraced him, Keira sandwiched between them, and he held them both tightly then insisted the paramedic look at them. Caesar thanked the man working the counter and overpaid him for the drinks.

Michonne personally got the information from Andrea and Keira, Caesar was hanging back with Rosita, and he didn't take his eyes off of his girls. He couldn't. He almost lost them and wouldn't have even known it. He had been stupid enough to think they were on their way to Florida. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Michonne waved him over. "I'll see at the precinct, Martinez. Take care of them then we'll talk."

"Ma'am." He gave a respective nod and asked politely to the paramedic. "Could we have a moment?"

She had seen to both of them and was just remaining to comfort them, so she left them.

Andrea sat with Keira on her lap and her cheek against Keira's head. "I saw her."

"Carol?" He moved beside her.

"I looked back once. She shot a man who was about to tackle me. She saved us twice." Tears rose up in her eyes. "I couldn't save her at all. She...took that shot without even hesitating, for us. What do they want from her?"

"We may have an idea, but that's for later." He gently lifted Keira up as he rose. "C'mon."

They walked to his car, Rosita had gone back with Michonne and they would be alone on the drive back to the house. Keira was silent, and Andrea kept her up front on her lap, stroking her hair gently, and Caesar rubbed her back at red lights. Night was falling, and Andrea couldn't stop thinking about what became of Carol. Was she dead right now? Was she being brutalized? What horrors were they inflicting on her? What had Andrea left her to?

Caesar unlocked the door and gave the house a good look to assure Keira it was safe. They went up to their bedroom, Caesar dug in to the closet, and Andrea got a new outfit for Keira. One that didn't reek of imprisonment and death. Her poor baby girl.

"Here." She set the outfit on the bed and cupped her cheek. "Are you all right?"

She didn't say anything.

"You're safe now," Andrea vowed. "I will never let that happened again. Daddy won't either. We'll get Aunt Carol back, and it'll be okay. I swear to you, okay? I swear to you."

She nodded. "I believe you, Mommy."

She hugged her and kissed her forehead. "Get dressed. We'll be right over there."

She snuffled. "Okay."

Andrea headed to the closet, looking back once at Keira. "Why did they take Carol?" Andrea demanded, trapping her husband in the closet by blocking the exit.

"A young girl was kidnapped from her school," he confessed. "A boy who didn't leave a name called it in. Rosita and I believe Carol was taken to get this girl back alive. With the news of Carol just rescuing Beth Greene so fresh right now it makes sense."

"Why kidnap Carol? Couldn't they just come to her like Noah did?"

"The boy didn't say, but we received the footage from the school and neighboring building's cameras that tell us this wasn't random. We saw one of the Governor's men driving the car. This child could have links to the Archer. They're enemies and have had a war going on for years. The Governor kidnapped this kid who is either family to him or one of his men as leverage. If the Archer isn't a heartless bastard, he'll do just about anything to her back." Caesar had seen crime scenes from both the Governor and the Archer. The Governor left bodies piled up, but all there ever were for the Archer were bolts left behind and shaky employees who didn't have a mark on them. The bolts were more of a marker, saying _this is my place, back the hell off._ It was a gesture that showed he worked with words and loyalty, not blood and fear, and Caesar had a little respect for the men. Well, he certainly didn't hate this guy as much as he hated that godless son of a bitch Governor. Although he would quickly beat the Archer bloody if he laid even a finger on Carol.

Shaking his head, he hoped when this was over they had names and faces. He felt like he was talking about TV characters. Christ.

"The part I can't comprehend is the Governor's man being caught on camera. That's _never_ happened in the past." She had worked a few cases that involved the Governor's men, but no convictions because they were too damn good. "Why would the Governor be so hazardous during a _kidnapping_? He's always been profiled as highly intelligent and exceedingly cautious. He would have known that place like the back of his hand and all of the cameras in and around that area." She was struggling to make sense of this.

"He wasn't." Caesar folded his arms. "The footage had been tampered with. _Doctored._ That means one of our own is working for the Archer and is pointing us toward the Governor."

She closed her eyes to think about this, picturing all the men and women who worked with Caesar and Carol on a daily basis. He or she was a spy, only there to keep the cops off the Archer, and now they were risking exposure to ensure the Governor's ass fried. "This is crazy." Her eyes opened. "Why not just involve Carol legally? If they had an inside person, who is now leaking doctored footage, why not just come to her and have her and all of you search for this child?"

"They kidnapped Carol because she is an easy target and the best person for the job. She not only has the skills to do this job and do it well, but she has the dedication. It doesn't take being best friends with Carol to know she'd stop the world to save a child."

Andrea exhaled. "She's never gives up on any of her kids." They were always _her_ kids too. She didn't know them at all or raise them, but from the second one of their little faces landed on her desk and to the time they were returned home to their family or laid to rest, they were hers. Especially the ones who had been lost. They were the ones who stayed with her the most.

He didn't linger on that. "I think his plan might have started out very hush. Why else would they have kidnapped a cop and sent false information to her boss? I think he had planned on using Carol and his own men to formulate a plan then deploy it to retrieve this child with as little damage as possible. It clearly backfired on them, and now it's all coming to a head. Meaning the Archer is in danger, _Carol is in danger_ , and they need our help."

"Carol was already in danger, Caesar! A drug lord kidnapped her."

"I don't think he was going to hurt her. He singled her out, so he knows what she's capable of. He won't be able to sway her resolve. He had to know what he was getting in to when he kidnapped a loyal member of the NYPD. He wouldn't dare harm her, so that tells us they're now in the hands of the Governor."

"Fuck," she softly exclaimed, running her hands down her face and crossing her arms. She then noticed he was packing _her_ clothes. "Are we going to a safe house?"

"No, you're going to Florida."

"Like hell I am!"

"Andrea!" He looked at Keira, but she was busy with her shoes. "Yes."

"I am not leaving this state, Caesar. You can't make me. I—"

He dropped her clothes to the floor and pulled her flush against him, his lips crushing her. She gasped into his mouth, not at all expecting him to do that, and she closed her eyes as he deepened the kiss. She could feel his fear, his desperation, and more importantly his love. She opened her mouth to his and grasped strands of his hair at the nape of his next, and he pulled her even closer, his grip almost painful. She thought he may kiss her forever.

When they finally broke apart, his nose tenderly brushed across hers, eyes still shut, and he gently kissed her once more. She didn't know if that kiss was meant to shut her up or if it was simply because he couldn't hold back anymore, but she honestly didn't mind if it was either. She still had plenty to argue nevertheless.

"I can't risk him coming for you two again."

"You're not getting rid of me without one hell of a fight and some type of sedative."

"Then you're coming down to the precinct with me."

"I can do that."

"I'll see if Keira's hungry." He cupped and stroked her cheek. "I'm sorry, Andrea. For everything I said—I don't ever want you to leave."

"Me too." She leaned into his touch and smiled.

He made sure Keira at least ate part of a peanut butter sandwich, and to his surprise, she ate all of it with a glass of milk. Andrea changed and filled her largest purse with some gummy snacks for Keira and a blanket. She couldn't stomach any food, so she just had some orange juice, and they were ready to head to the precinct.

"So when we get back, we're installing the alarm system I wanted," Andrea informed her husband.

He smiled. "Definitely."

"Let's go bring Carol home this time."

– – –

Carol came to bouncing—actually bouncing—from hitting a bump in the road. She could feel the handcuffs biting in to her wrists, and she opened her eyes to discover she was inside a truck. She sat up only to have her head bashed against the wall of the truck, and she groaned, sucking air in through her teeth, pulling her legs out from under her. She saw Daryl wedging himself in the corner of the van to keep from slipping around, and she followed his lead on the other side with much difficulty. This was the bumpiest ride. The hell? Were they driving blindfolded? Christ, Sam drove cars in his games better than them.

She let out an uncomfortable groan. "How long have you been up?"

"A couple minutes, I suppose."

"You could've warned me about the bumps."

"And let you miss out on all the fun?"

"Do you know if they got out?" Carol let out a small groan and straightened. "My friend and her daughter? Did they get out?"

He shook his head. "Sorry."

"Don't be. We'll find out, I'm sure."

The ride grew very smooth suddenly, like they stopped diving for potholes, and the truck began to slow way down. Carol braced herself for what would happen next, and Daryl was trying to keep calm about the blood seeping from the gunshot wound, pushing against the tape. He couldn't keep his vision straight. Fuck.

The door to the truck slid open, a gun greeted them followed by four men. They grabbed Carol and escorted her inside by her arm, and they did the same to Daryl, noting the blood. A man in a suit watched them as they were led inside the building under the cover of night, and they were placed into a clean room with two cushioned benches inside, and one of them set a metal box down on a metal stool they'd just brought with them.

"Clean him up." The suited man stood in the doorway.

"Phillip." Daryl wanted to tackle him and beat his face bloody, but he was far to feeble from the blood loss.

"Phillip?" Carol helped Daryl stand and looked at the man. "The Governor."

He nodded. "Clean the boy up before he dies on us."

"I—I'm not a doctor." She wrapped an arm around Daryl's back and held his forearm, feeling his weight on her more and more.

"No, you're a detective. Damn good too, Williams." He smiled when she didn't squirm. It was more fun that way. "You've taken quite a bit of damage in your day, so I think you can help him out." He closed the door and locked it. "We'll talk when he's all cleaned up."

Daryl fell to his knees and Carol with him. She gently laid him down and grabbed the metal box, finding exactly what they needed inside. She peeled his shirt up, he whined, and she moved more gingerly. She had to cut the tape, and she decided to rip it off quick, hoping it wouldn't hurt as much. Daryl cried out like a wounded dog, and she shushed him, apologizing. She wet the area caked with blood with water, trying to find the wound, and she wiped at the blood. She had no idea how to do this, so she would just have to wing it. This wasn't something anybody would wing, but there was no other choice.

She disinfected the wound, and his hand clutched her wrist tightly, and she soothed him, running her thumb repeatedly and soothingly across his forehead. There was no avoiding this. It needed to be cleaned before she bandaged it. The morgue hadn't at all clean, and who knows what's gotten into to the wound. She couldn't ease his pain, but she could help him through it. She didn't bother with shushing him. She moved the stool closer, guiding his hand to it and watched as he gripped it more and more as she continued to stroke his hair.

Reaching inside the box, she saw items to stitch the wound. She wasn't sure if he needed stitches, and she had no experience in that matter. She passed on it, because she didn't want to put him in anymore pain. Once the wound was clean, she reached for a bandage, but saw how bloody her hands were. They were sticky with his blood, so she wiped her hands on her jeans to try and rub off some of it. She grasped a bandage and bandaged the wound. She turned him onto his side and did the same his back. It was shoddy work. He would need real medical care. What the hell was the Governor thinking? She couldn't do anything for him. He desperately needed blood. She couldn't just cut herself and bleed into the wound.

Her eyes fell on a tube inside the box with needles that could be used for a shoddy transfusion. She even found a note from the top asshat himself. This was the only way to save Daryl, but she didn't know his blood type. What the hell was she going to do? Unless...Phillip though that through as well.

"Daryl?" She set a hand on his cheek. "Daryl?"

"...Hmm..." His head rolled to the side.

"What's your blood type?"

He frowned. "Why?"

"Just tell me."

"AB positive."

"Universal recipient." She began the transfusion, and Daryl began to freak out.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Stay still. I'm giving you blood."

"What? No! Stop!"

"Daryl, you'll die if you don't get blood. My blood will have to do. I've never had unprotected sex, and I haven't been out of the country in years. I've never done drugs, although you may worry because alcoholism runs through my veins." He didn't laugh. "My blood's clean, and you don't get to die on that little girl, okay?"

He clasped her hand and looked in to her eyes, her blood sliding through the tube and into him. "Thank you."

"You'd do the same for me." She smiled.

"Maybe not exactly this," he joked.

She laughed. "No, this is a one-sided thing I can only do for you."

"I'll get you outta here, and we'll call this even."

"I'll get you out of here. In handcuffs, crook."

"Don't read my rights to me yet, officer."

"Not yet."

Her tone was so soft, and he noticed how beautiful she looked at this angle. The lightening made her appear to have a halo, her eyes were a sparkling mixture of genuine concern and happiness—that the transfusion appeared to be working. They couldn't be sure. It'd only been about a minute. Still she looked angelic, familiar.

He could recall another woman from his past—long wavy hair, smile that was too sweet to be at all real, hips that drew the eye, a laugh that was so contagious and powerful that it lit up the entire room. He remembered she smelled of whiskey and soap, and she had an ass that was just damn perfect. She was a figure in his past, one whose face he couldn't recall. He went home with her that night and the next night, and he had to make himself not seek her out for a third night. It was the first time he wanted to actively search for a woman. It was stupid to do. He could have put her at risk. He was new to his position as the Archer, and he was lucky nobody was tailing him. Otherwise she might have ended up dead. Shit, though, her touch was like fire. She tasted like peaches. He could remember that, clear as day. Just not her face. Or even her voice. How long ago was that?

"You okay there, Daryl?" She took notice of the far away look in his eyes.

"Yeah. How long do we do this? I don't wanna take too much."

"I'll stop before I pass out."

He nodded.

"When this is over—"

"—you're arresting my ass?"

"It's a nice ass to arrest."

He smirked. "Are you flirtin' with me? Really? Right now?"

"If not now, when? When we're dead?"

"Got a strange sense of timing." He reached up and grasped strands of her hair.

"Hey, I was joking. Trying to lighten the mood."

"You got a dead bug in your hair." He flicked it off his fingers.

"Sure." She watched the blood and shifted so her arm was higher than his. "So, tell me about your little girl."

"She's a normal little girl. She's really happy, extremely hyper, and so creative. And brave. She...doesn't have a mean bone in her body. She's so strong. I don't know where she gets it from either." He paused before confessing, "She's the only reason I'm still alive."

"What do you mean?" Her brows furrowed.

"I...was in to some dumb shit. Dangerous shit. Merle only made it worse."

"If you don't mind me saying...Merle doesn't sound like a good brother."

"He's Merle. It was my own fault. I followed him through everything. I always had."

"What changed?"

"Sophia." His arm rested on his stomach, his fingers on her elbow. "She was born."

She smiled. "Is that why you spoil her rotten?"

He smiled back. "I wanted her to have the childhood I never got. My parents...might as well have not been there. They didn't care for me or Merle much. We were just accidents in my opinion. Doesn't matter much now, because they're both dead. I have Merle and my daughter and the men you met. They're my family, and that's all I need."

She nodded.

"Why'd you become a cop?" He studied her eyes. "Of all the careers an intelligent, crafty, beautiful woman like yourself could've had...why the hell did you choose to become a cop?"

"Because when I was thirteen-years-old, I found my best friend's older sister's body. She had been tossed outside like a newspaper. She was just...out in the open, you know? Like nobody cared. Like she was never human to begin with, and she and the garage were one and the same." She swallowed hard. "I uh, couldn't do anything to help her. I was a few days shy of my fourteenth birthday, and they don't exactly teach you how to help in situations like that."

"Wasn't she already dead?"

She shook her head. "She was breathing. I remember her chest rising a little. Her necklace was moving as she breathed, and I was just...desperately trying to do anything to help her. She died."

His fingers on her elbow wrapped gently around it, his thumb consolingly stroking her arm. "I'm sorry."

"The worst part was when I realized I couldn't do anything to help her. I froze and just stared at her. I don't know how long. I just know that sometime later I began to freak out." Tears shimmered in her eyes, and he wished there was more he could for her. "It could have been seconds or minutes, I don't know. I—I'd just noticed all of her blood on me. I backed up into some trash cans, made a lot of noise, and her brother found us like that."

"Did they find who did it?"

"No." She lowered her eyes. "They never looked hard enough, because they were the ones that did it."

"They?"

"Cops. Dirty cops." Her eyes widened, and she lowered them. "We heard them talking about how people needed to pay their debts to them soon, and we caught them in the act. They were harassing a kind old woman who sold Mexican food on our block. The sons of bitches set her restaurant on fire the previous night for her not paying on time. We wanted to do something, but we were kids. Nobody would have believed us."

"You told her?"

"Karen, yeah." She nodded. "She was twenty and everybody considered her to be an adult, so we told her about it. She knew the woman they were harassing and stepped in. Two days later I found her body. Three days after her funeral, I found the assholes harassing a man I knew very well, and they were threatening to do to him what they did to Karen. I wanted to make them pay."

"So you became a cop?"

"After."

"After?"

She met his eyes. "I hurt them first. I was distraught over Karen and how they brushed it off. I couldn't sleep knowing justice would never be served, because they had the color of blue on their side. I just couldn't let them get away with it."

"What did you do?"

"I wanted to hurt them as badly as they hurt Karen, but I was small and weak." A tear fell free. "So I worked odd jobs for weeks to buy a video camera and then when I could purchase it, I set up it in the woman's restaurant and recorded every word, every movement, every threat. I turned it over to the DA, and they paid. They finally paid for what they did."

He exhaled deeply, not realizing he had been holding his breath, and he closed his eyes. "Good on you."

"Yeah, good on me." She could feel that hollow, dark feeling creeping up on her. "Do you want to know what really hurt the most?"

"What?" he whispered.

"Knowing that I might have been able to save Karen. If I had just called 911, if I had just moved quicker. She might be alive, and Caesar wouldn't be in so much pain over it."

"It wasn't your fault it happened, Carol. She died tryin' to do something good. I know it's shit, but you can't blame yourself. From how you talk about her, she wouldn't want you blaming yourself."

"You're right." She wiped her eyes. "She wouldn't."

"And she cries."

She laughed a little. "And you bleed. Profusely."

"I'm not a demon."

"No? Then why do they call you the Archer and not Daryl?"

"It strips me of my humanity," he replied. "It's just a title, and a title's not a man. It brings fear to people who may cross me and to my enemies. When they see me, they see the Archer, not a man, not Daryl. They see what they want to—never me. It's easier to kill a title than a man after all. Well, for some people."

She frowned. "How did you wind up like this?"

"A shitty life and then...I couldn't stand being hungry one second more." He stared at the ceiling. "Have you ever been so hungry...that the only thing that reminds you that you're alive and not in hell are the sharp hunger pangs that course through your entire body? That makes you want to puke, but there's nothing in your stomach, yet still you salivate. You can...even taste the food in your mouth, but it's not there. The waves of nausea sweep through you, over and over."

She nodded. "When I was a kid."

"That was my life for years...then I met a man who needed someone like me. Someone he could shape into anything."

"He shape you into the Archer?"

"Not at first, but eventually."

"I...I wish I could have helped you."

"I don't."

"Why?" She ran her eyes over his face.

"'Cause if you'd helped me, I wouldn't have become who I am and I wouldn't have my little girl. It was worth it for her."

Again she nodded, her fingers moving to her locket. "I know what you mean."

His eyes moved to her face. "You have a kid?"

"No, I just meant I know what you mean. Had I taken some offers I got as a child, I wouldn't have ended up where I am. Although where physically I am at the moment isn't that amazing, but I do like my life. I love my job too."

"You do?"

"Every second of it."

"I hate my job. Isn't really even my job."

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

She exhaled. "I'm guessing they won't take you until you're cleaned up and not on the verge of dying, so try and relax."

"Easier said than done."

"Just try."

He reached over and grasped her hand. "I'm glad it was you."

"Glad what was me?"

"I've been watching you for a couple years, following your cases and seeing how good you are at your job. You are my just in case, and not because of accessibility. You're unbelievably passionate and dedicated and intelligent. I knew you were the only person I could turn to if anything happened to any of my men or my kid."

"Were there other candidates?"

"Your partner. Martinez."

"Caesar?"

"It was my brother's idea. I told him no. He has a kid himself and a wife. His street has too many cameras, and far too people walk that way. I didn't want to risk someone seeing us take him, and I didn't want to have to sedate his kid and wife. He's a damn good cop, but it was always you."

"That's...sweet and atrocious."

He smiled a little. "It wasn't like I could ask."

"You could always try."

"All right. Carol Williams, do I have permission to kidnap you in case my child is abducted from her elementary school by my enemies?"

"No, but thanks for asking."

He laughed and slid his fingers through hers, interlocking their hands.

She smiled and shook her head, her gaze on the blood, and she didn't how much she'd already given him. Not much, she was sure, but she wasn't entirely sure how much to give him. If she passed out then she would know that was enough. Or too much. Surely, the Governor would intervene if that were to happen. He wanted Daryl in top form, so perhaps her as well. Or if he wanted to use her as leverage, he would need her alive.

Shifting on the cold cement floor, Carol's eyes fell on his face. His eyes were closed, taking her advice to relax, and she studied his face. There wasn't much else to look at around here, and it wasn't a bad view. He wasn't...obviously handsome, no. At second, more thorough glance, it became a little more evident. His personality wasn't half bad either. If he wasn't a criminal...

Furrowing her brows, she shook her head. Uh, no. Scratch all of that. He was a criminal, and there was no use pretending otherwise. She would take down the Governor then the Archer and go back to her life. She would make sure Sophia was taken of. She owed Daryl that much, but she couldn't turn her back on her job. She took an oath, and she wasn't going to break it, no matter what her feelings were. She felt he was a good man and given the chance he would escape this life and raise Sophia better than he was now. It didn't change who he was or the choices he'd made. He had to know it wasn't personal. It was just her job—her life. She hoped he would forgive her one day. She'd do what she could to lower his sentence, but in the end it was out of her hands. As always.

She closed her eyes, no longer able to look at him, and she counted seconds that turned in to minutes, trying to figure how long it had been since this transfusion began.


	15. The Small Fish

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Keira was asleep in her mom's lap, the blanket around her, and Andrea rubbed her back, watching the officers in the next room scurry around like mice. She didn't know if they would find Carol or not, but they had something more to go off of now. She wanted Carol to be okay. She didn't really see her before, so she had no clue how badly injured she was. Her aim was still impressive, still on point, so maybe she hadn't been the one to lose all that blood. It could be the Archer. Sadly, she hoped so. But he was trying to rescue a child though. Damn it, she was conflicted. She hoped they were both safe and not bleeding out.

Andrea was grateful Keira was all right, save for her ankle, but it was just a sprain. It would heal. Thank God they hadn't chased them down. It was bad news for Carol however. She was so altruistic. She hoped she received good karma for that and was able to come back home soon. She didn't deserve what was happening to her now. She didn't deserve what they might do to her later. She should be here with them, with family.

"She asleep?" Caesar soundlessly slipped in.

"Yeah."

He carefully brushed back hair and kissed her forehead, bending down. "We searched the warehouse, but we didn't find anything." He kept his voice low as to not wake their daughter.

"Nothing? Not even the blood?"

"No. It was spotless."

"What about the surrounding area? They might not have cleaned up where Carol was hiding."

"Do you remember where that was?"

"Not really, but I would know it if I saw it."

"I don't want you going back there, but if you're willing then I'll take you. Rosita can watch Keira. She's good with kids, so don't worry about her."

"Of course I'm willing. If it helps Carol, I'd do anything." She searched his eyes. "I'm ready to go as soon as you are."

"Okay. I'll get Rosita."

Andrea slowly stood up, setting Keira's head down gently on her purse, and she removed her jacket and covered her with it, hoping her scent would keep her sleeping. She pressed a kiss to her forehead and silently slipped from the room. She joined Caesar and one of the men he was working with. They spoke briefly then Andrea checked in on Rosita.

"Are you okay with playing babysitter?" Andrea rubbed her arm.

"Yeah, it's fine. I have a nephew a little younger than her, so it's all good." She was looking over something. "I'm busy, but I have my little helpers, and we'll keep her in good spirits. She'll be in good, armed hands."

"Thank you."

"I'll call when she wakes, so you can assure her it's all right. It'll help to hear your voice."

"That would be great. Thank you."

She smiled. "Stop thanking me. Caesar is like family, and I'll do anything that helps bring Carol home and that asshole piece of shit Governor down."

"And the Archer," Andrea added. "The Governor and the Archer."

"Yeah, both of 'em." She leaned toward Andrea. "But if we're being honest, I'd rather see the Governor go down, if we can only catch one of them."

"Same here." She had a fire of hatred for that sick son of a bitch. "So, you two will be all right?"

"Yes." She held the tablet to her chest. "Go and find evidence. And bring me back something cold, minty and caffeinated."

She laughed a little. "I will."

"Good luck."

They headed out to the location where Andrea and Keira had been held. Caesar was driving, Andrea was looking through the windows and windshield, trying to see if anything looked familiar. Two officers were in the backseat just in case any of the Governor's or Archer's men were lingering. They drove down two streets before Andrea decided to get out and walk. She wanted to look for blood. There had been drops the entire path the suited man had taken them on and when the blood stopped, that was when she was supposed to call for Carol.

"Does this place look familiar?"

"Not really." She looked at her husband. "I was distracted. He held Keira at gunpoint."

"I get it. Just try and remember, all right? There's no pressure."

"There's a lot of pressure. If we don't find _something_ , we'll never find Carol. We'll never be able to prove she was even here." She folded her arms. "Every building looks the same. Boarded and tagged, and I only know that Carol was behind where Keira and I were."

"Do you remember the street? Like a sign or anything?"

"No. I was a little—" she cut off and thought back. Carol had shot from behind them and so the building she was against was the building she ran back into. She was ducking behind a gray wall. The windows on that building weren't boarded over. They had blinds.

"Andrea?" Caesar studied her face.

"Hold on." She ran her gaze over the buildings surrounding them then hurried to the next street and then to the next, looking for those windows, that specific color. She could hear the others calling to her, but she kept going. She had the clearest image of this building in her mind, and she wasn't going to waste time explaining it to them and risk having it slip away. She scanned the buildings, trying to find the right one. She had a good memory, not photographic, but still good. She would find the place. She knew she would.

Caesar let Andrea go, and he was about to follow when he noticed a man in one of the alleyways. He sent the two cops with them with his wife and pulled out his gun, going to the man. He was in all black, with dusty red hair and mustache. He wasn't at all threatening, but he had entered a crime scene. He wasn't one of them, that was clear, but he wasn't one of the Governor's men either. He wouldn't be stupid enough to be here, and he would have just killed them all without even blinking. This had to be one of the Archer's men or a gutsy civilian.

"Sir, you can't be back here."

"Not sir," he correct. "Name's Axel."

"Well, Axel, you can't be back here. You're interfering with a crime scene."

"No, I'm here to help you."

"Help me?" He shook his head. "You need to get out of here. I'll escort you."

"Do you want to save Carol or not?"

He stopped. "What do you know about Carol?"

"A little more than you do." He nodded to the car behind him. "I'll take you to the last place she was at. Before we lost her. We have evidence and information that your people don't, and we're willing to share it with you if you work with us. Just you."

"Yeah, 'cause that went so well the last time."

"You can involve your fellow officers, but what we show you, we're showing only you. We don't have time to argue this, so either you get in the car with me or I leave."

"I can't just leave. My wife and two officers are looking for—"

"They won't find anything. With us, you will. You can explain it to them when you get back."

"Will I be getting back?"

"Yes."

He looked back to see Andrea disappear behind some buildings, and he cursed. "All right." He holstered his gun. "But if you try anything, it'll be the last mistake you make."

"Ditto."

With one last glance, Caesar climbed into the car and left with Axel, finding another redhead in the car. He was more muscled through, and his eyes were guarded. He was on the alert. They were two different types of men, and the one that would do the killing was the one whose name Caesar didn't know. He would have to make sure to stay on his good side.

– – –

Sophia stared at the walls in the darkness of the room she was staying in, hearing hushed conversations behind the ajar door, and she rolled onto her back, her gaze now on the ceiling. She wanted to go home. She wanted her dad and Uncle Merle. She wanted to be in her own bed with her family whispering outside her door, not the lying snakes here.

"Sophia?" a man called into the room.

She said nothing.

He turned on the light, she winced at the sudden light, and he approached her with a tablet. "I have something for you."

"No, thanks." She turned away from him.

"Are you sure?" He played the audio of Daryl talking about her.

She shot up. "Daddy?" She grabbed the tablet and looked at the black screen. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Lair!"

"He's here. And if you want to see him again, you'll need to behave like a good girl."

She ground her teeth. "Where is he?"

"Downstairs. He's been badly wounded, but his wound has been seen to. He's resting right now, gathering his strength, and when he wakes up, you'll be the first to see him."

"I want to see him _now_."

"He's too weak. He wouldn't even know you were there."

"But _I_ would he's all right."

He smirked. "It doesn't work that way, kid."

"Don't call me kid," she hissed. "My uncle calls me kid and my dad's men, but not you. You don't get to call me that!"

"You'll come around."

"Come around?" She narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?"

He rose silently. "Get some sleep."

"You said you were gonna let me go." She grabbed his arm. "You said you were going to trade me!"

"I say a lot of things." He pried her hand off. "Doesn't mean I mean them."

"If you think I'm going to stay here and—and submit to you, you're dead wrong! My dad won't let that happen! Neither will my uncle! They won't stop until they find you— _and they will find you_ —and I'm back home!"

"Do you think I don't know that, honey?" He looked thoroughly amused. "I sent my best sniper to take care of your uncle, and I'm going to take care of your dad soon. I figured I'd make it a fair fight. He'll still be wounded, but I can't fix everything. And I did say I'd let you go back to your dad, but I never said when, and I never said he'd still be alive."

She clenched her fists. "You bastard!" She smacked him hard with the tablet.

It fell to the floor with a broken screen, and he slapped her across the face, knocking her down, and she scrambled back until she hit the wall. He bent down in front of her, his hand come down, and she flinched. He didn't hit her. He clenched his jaw and balled his fists, index finger pointed at her like he was a scowling school teacher.

"You will learn to listen, little girl. Everyone learns to listen, and you will never do that again. Do you understand me?"

"I do understand you, Phillip," she whispered, trembling, "but I _will_ do something like that again. I will keep doing it until I get out of here."

"Wake up, girly. There is not getting out of here," he growled. "You'll get used to this place, and you will learn to curb your tongue. In time, you'll learn. I'll see to it."

"I'll die first," she vowed. With a fuse like his, it was more true than anything else she could have said.

"Get some rest." He snatched the broken tablet up from the floor and slammed the door behind him.

Setting a shaking hand on her cheek, Sophia closed her eyes. If her dad was downstairs, he was that much closer to getting her. He would get her out of here. He and Uncle Merle would get her out. No sniper could stop him. Whatever his plan was, it wouldn't work. Uncle Merle was too smart for that, and he had military training. He would recognize the signs and find a way out. He would. He had to.

She grabbed pillow from the bed and crawled underneath it, using the pillow to make the floor a little more comfortable. The next time he came for her, she would kick him as hard as she could in the back of the leg and run. She wasn't going to wait around to be beaten to death or worse. He was insane, and she had to find her dad. When she got out, she'd go down to the basement. It couldn't be too hard to find. It was probably locked with a code and metal doors, so she'd just have to...figure it out as she went. Maybe she'd get lucky. Maybe she'd get shot. She just had to try. She wouldn't let her dad bleed out and die alone. She would find him and get him out of here. Even if she had to call the cops to do it. She would rather beg him to forgive her than know he died alone.

– – –

Caesar walked into a room with a black man, a small white young man, and the two redheads, seeing pictures and written on pieces of paper tacked to a board. There were pictures of Carol, a man around her age with messy brown hair and blue eyes, and another man who was clean cut and had murky green eyes. He knew these men were the Archer and the Governor. He didn't know which was which, but judging from the clean cut and almost pulsating green eyes, that one was the Governor. The messy one was most likely the Archer. He looked too blasé to a cold-hearted killer. That, and he had seen a picture of the man with a redheaded child.

"So, what's this information?" Caesar demanded.

"Right to business, I like it." Oscar nodded to Noah, unable to move much, still recovering from the shots he'd taken, but he refused to stay put. He owed Daryl his life, and he would give it ensure he and that little angel were brought back here safely. Sophia was like his own, and he wouldn't let her down. He would go to the hospital when this was all over.

"We should bring her in," Noah whispered. "She's the best we have. I'm amateur at best."

"It's her choice, not ours." Abe gestured to Caesar. "I'm Abraham, that's Oscar and Noah. You already know Axel's name."

He gave a nod. "What do you know about my partner? Do you know her current location?"

"No, but we know they're at his estate."

"The Governor's estate?" He walked around to look at what the boy was watching.

"Yes, sir." Noah scratched the back of his neck. "We have footage of one of the trucks he uses to move his drugs, only we know it has the Archer and Williams. We tracked it as far as we could, but the cameras were feeding us footage on a loop after a certain point. We assume they were close to turning off, and we lost them."

"He's always one goddamn step ahead of us," Abe muttered. "He has 'em all now, and it's only a matter of time before they all leave in body bags. Or worse."

"What's worse than that?" Caesar looked at the raging ginger.

"Not at leaving at all."

"We have one other person who can help us," Noah reminded them. "A brilliant hacker. Like insanely brilliant. Our hacker could find them. I know it."

"It's not our choice," Abe repeated. "We all have our jobs."

"And I think it's time I do mine."

Caesar tensed and lifted his eyes. "Holy shit."

Their hacker stood in the doorway, white vest, black jeans and that ever charming smile. "Hello, Caesar."

"Espinosa."

– – –

Merle sat in a smoky bar, the bottle of whiskey half empty beside him, and he waited. He had been waiting, and he hadn't been drinking much. He was as sober as he needed to be for this. He had followed the little rat for most of the day, and he had seen with his own eyes the betrayal. He saw Daryl and the detective being hauled off in a refrigerated truck. He had seen the Governor's weaselly ass and the little rat himself. He couldn't get to Daryl or the cop. It would have only gotten them all killed, and he didn't have the proper weaponry with him. He did this time, and once he got what he needed out of the little bitch, he was going to give him the deep six.

The bar a little scarce tonight, which was a good thing considering it was going to be filled with gunfire and blood in about two minutes. He had paid the bartender beforehand for the damage he was going to cause and for his tab, which was more expensive than the damages he was going to inflict with Gareth's skull. He should start drinking at home. When this was over, he would.

The sound of a pool stick hitting a ball caught his attention, and he lifted his eyes as the Gareth entered the bar, scanning for any familiar faces, looking a little spooked, and he asked for a drink. Merle took one last drink from the bottle of whiskey and rose from his table, gripping the bottle tightly. He gave a nod to Pete, and the bartender stepped into the back.

Gareth noted that and looked over, seeing Merle and practically flying off the stool.

"What's the matter, Gareth? You look like you seen a ghost."

He backed up. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Just came for a drink."

"No, why are you still alive? He—You're supposed to be dead."

"I get that a lot."

Gareth was confused, but he wasn't going die here. The Governor's sniper might be delayed, but he never missed his target. He would find them and kill this piece of trash. He knew it. He just had to keep alive until then. "You don't know who you're messing with, Merle." He reached for his gun.

Merle bashed the bottle of whiskey into Gareth's face, he cried out and his hands gripped his face. "No, brother, you got that backwards." He grabbed Gareth by the neck and disarmed him. "You wanna tell me where my brother and niece are?"

"You fuck!" Gareth spewed.

"You wanna do this the hard way?" Merle tossed him over a table and grabbed a pool stick from the table; Gareth chucked a chair at him, and while Merle was distracted by dodging it, he pulled one of the bigger pieces of glass from his face. "Good. I love the hard way." He slammed the end of the pool stick, the part you're meant to hold, into Gareth's gut.

He sputtered from the blow and managed to dodge the next strike. "Do you think you're in control here?"

Merle chuckled and snapped the end off the pool stick, now having two sharp weapons. "Why don't you tell me?"

In the shadows outside the brawl between Merle and Gareth, outside the musty bar, sat the sniper, watching the two men duke it out. He had been there all night, watching Merle watch for Gareth. He had been slightly interested in this whole situation. The kidnapped brother, Gareth's pathetic betrayal and Merle's revenge. So many players in this game. So much blood that will and might be shed.

He wasn't entirely entertained by this game. None of the players were of any worth. No, only one player had ever matched him and had his full attention. What he would do to be thrown back into a game with that player. Intelligent, savvy, sexy in a goodie goodie way, and so easily broken. How he wished to play with her again, but alas that wasn't going to happen. He was the arm of the Governor, the shadow that lurked behind, and he was on a leash now. He knew better than to bite the hand that fed him, but damn did he miss a good game. Oh well. Maybe one day.

He peered through his scope, seeing the men had bloodied each other up well and good. Merle was the less wounded of the two players, of course. Gareth was scum who bite the hand over and over. He took from the hand and even started a war he knew he would never have to fight in. He was never commanded to kill the pest, but who would really miss him? He was not worthy of being on their side, therefore he wasn't going to make it out of this fight tonight. Neither one.

His finger rested on the trigger, and he had a perfect shot of Merle. He was about to pull the trigger when he read the man's lips and stopped. What had he just said? He lifted his phone to his ear, having had their computer guy tap into Gareth's phone for his location and to hear what the little rat was saying, and he listened.

Merle was panting, pissed and impatient. "Tell me where that cocksucker has my family, you piece of shit!"

"Do you really think I'll do that?"

"Why the fuck not? You blew up his wife and kid!"

"It was supposed to be him!" Gareth shouted. "It was supposed to be in the fucking car! Not Elizabeth! Not Penny!" Blood dripped from his mouth as he screamed regret-filled words, their blood forever on his hands, and while he wouldn't blink if that bitch cop died, he had nightmares about what he did to those girls. They were innocent in all of this, completely unaware of Phillip's little drug business. The cop had taken lives. She was no innocent, but Christ, they were. And he had killed them.

"What was your plan? Take over his place?" Merle chuckled. "You were never gonna fill his shoes."

He glowered. "I could."

"No, you're just a small fish. But me? Phillip? We're goddamn sharks. You were never gonna survive this." He raised his gun. "So tell me where they are. My brother, my niece and that cop."

"Why do you care about her? Williams, or whatever."

"I don't. Carol don't mean shit to me, but my brother? He'd never forgive me I didn't get her out of there too, so you're gonna tell me where she is, and I'm going to kill you. I'll make all of your pain and guilt go away."

"Go fuck yourself."

The sniper fired once it was confirmed that Carol Williams was one of the three people the Governor had kidnapped, and he stood up, collecting his high-powered rifle and returning. He was sent to kill someone, and kill someone he had. He just mixed up his Gs and Ms. Mere's time would come, but not today, not by him. He had someone to visit, and Merle had given him the name. Carol Williams. The game just became incredibly interesting.

In the bar, Merle stood with Gareth's blood splattered across his jeans, and he looked through the window where the bullet had been fired. He stepped back before the blood seeped through the tread on his boot. He leaned over and dug out the keys from the Gareth's pocket and his cell phone. He could use his GPS to find out where Gareth had been going, and it would be useful to be able to contact the Governor.

As he strolled out of the bar, he exhaled, oddly relieved he didn't have to take another life. Well, he would take Governor's life, and hopefully that would be the last life he had to take. For Daryl and Sophia, he wouldn't mind. He would get them out of there. And Carol too.


	16. Blood Reveals Blood

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Caesar stared at a woman he had worked with for years and now knew he had no idea who the hell she was. He couldn't believe it. Rosita was the mole. She was working for the Archer. Holy shit. What was happening? Who else was working for him? Why was she working for him?

"I know it's a lot to take it." She was already getting to work. "But I am one of the good guys."

"You work for a drug lord!" he growled. "That isn't one of the good guys."

"I work for the NYPD," she corrected. "This is...extracurricular."

"Extracurricular," he scoffed.

"He saved my life," Rosita informed him. "Daryl saved my damn life, and if I can stop the cops from stealing his then hell yes I am going to. He's not doing any harm. You don't even know him."

"I do know! I know all about it!"

"Then don't judge me for working with him."

"Did you know they were going to take Carol?" he demanded.

"Who do you think helped them into her place?" she muttered. "Those cameras were like rolling off a log, but Carol's a lot more careful than that."

"I can't believe I know you. Shit, I don't even know you, not really."

"You do know me, Caesar." She met his eyes. "I'm still the same Rosita Espinosa. I just have a part time job you don't approve of. That's fine. I don't approve of your coffee choice."

"That is _not_ the same thing."

"We both save lives. I save Daryl's, and that means I save a ten-year-old girl's too. I paid my debt to him long ago, but I stayed because of that sweet little girl who doesn't deserve what Phillip will put her through. So if you don't approve of that then I don't give a shit." She turned her full attention to her work.

He walked away and shook his head. "I need to call my wife."

"No can do," Abraham replied. "I don't trust you, and all I know you want your partner back, which is the only reason why you're here. We want our boss back, and with him comes Carol. That's the only connection we have, and you can do what you want when you leave."

"It's fine, Abe," Rosita corrected him. "Call her."

"What, did you tap into my phone?"

"Yes." She was entirely serious.

He shook his head and pulled his phone out then paused. "If you're here, who the hell is watching my daughter?"

"She's with Shepard," Rosita replied. "They're making paper people." She showed him on her tablet. "I have a camera in my pens. She's fine. I wouldn't let anything happen to her."

He called Andrea and walked to the far wall of the room.

" _Caesar?_ "

"Yeah, it's me."

" _Where the hell are you? I turned around and you were gone. I thought...someone had taken to you too._ "

He glanced over at Rosita and Abe and Noah, the others doing whatever the hell their jobs were. "No, I'm fine. I—I just got a lead that I couldn't ignore. I didn't mean to worry you. I just—I grabbed a cab and am still following up. I'll be there soon."

" _Well, we found the place Carol was holding up. There's a broken chair and some drops of blood. They were holding out in a morgue._ "

"Jesus." He ran a hand down his face. "That's great. Really."

" _Thanks. Keira made you something, so hurry up and get here. I also got us some drinks. I got one for Rosita, but I don't know where she is. Shepard said she had a family emergency. I hope everything's all right._ "

"I'm sure it is. I have to go, but I'll seen you soon. I love you."

" _I love you too. Wait. Keira wants to talk to you._ "

"Okay." He ran a hand through his hair as Andrea handed over the phone. "Hi, baby."

 _"Dad?"_

"What is it?"

" _Good luck_."

He smiled. "Thank you, baby. I'll be there soon. We'll get breakfast if you like."

" _I want some Chinese food_."

"We can do that too."

" _Yay! I love you, Daddy._ "

"I love you too, angel. I gotta go, but I can't wait to see you and Mom."

" _Okay. Bye_."

"Bye." He hung up and exhaled deeply.

"Lying sucks, doesn't it?" Rosita rested her head on her chin. "I hated lying to you and Carol. I really did, but I never did anything that hurt anybody. I just—"

"I don't understand or approve, but I understand. You get that, right?"

"I do." She smiled. "Let's find our partner and head back, because I really want what Andrea got me to drink."

"I owe my kid Chinese, so let's get to work."

– – –

Carol opened her eyes, having passed out sometime during the transfusion, and she pushed herself up, feeling fuzzy. She saw that the first aid kit had been reclaimed, the tube that connected her and Daryl as well, and she had a bandage over her elbow. She set a hand on her forehead and licked her lips, her mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. She needed food and water. And so would Daryl, along with other things.

"You're up."

She looked over at him. "You look better."

"So do you." He was resting against one of the benches. "I took the needle out, bandaged the wound. I think the Governor's men came for the kit when we were both passed out."

"Thank you." She cleared her throat. "Has anything happened?"

"No. Has me a little worried."

She moved beside him and set a hand on his forearm. "It'll be okay. Sophia's all right. He's just being an asshole, keeping you in the dark. He needs her alive, and I don't think he'll hurt her. We'll get her back."

He set his hand over hers and nodded. "Yeah."

"How cute." Phillip smiled in on them, a gun pointed at their heads. "Bonding, I see?"

Carol shot up, ignoring the rush to her head that dizzied her. "Where's Sophia?" Carol demanded. "What do you want? You've kept us here long enough, so tell us what the hell you intend to do to us or just do it!"

"And here I thought I was doing you a favor. Allowing you to get to know the father of your child was from the kindness of my heart."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Daryl's brows furrowed.

Carol paled, and Phillip grinned.

"Didn't you know? Carol here is Sophia's birth mother." He looked so amused. "You didn't know? Tsk, tsk. Can't you see the resemblance? The hair, the skin, the fiery attitude?"

Daryl's heart began to race as he turned his head to look at Carol. "What?"

"I'll let you guys talk it out." He closed the door and headed to meet with the sniper, wanting to know if the job was done.

Carol was standing in the opposite corner of the room, hands over her mouth, her stomach churning, and tears rose up in her eyes. Oh, God. Oh, sweet Jesus.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her. "Carol?"

"Is Sophia's birthday November 9th?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"Oh, God." She covered her face. "Was she born in 2005?"

"Yeah, November 9th 2005." He didn't have the strength to stand up. "Why? Is it true? Is she yours?"

"Well, in 2005...I gave birth to a little girl then put that little girl up for adoption. Sophia...is my daughter." She turned to look at him. "And yours? We...? Oh, my God."

His eyes widened as his mind began to fill the in the blanks in long forgotten memories. "Holy shit, you're her! You're the woman I spent two nights with!"

She sank down on the floor, her hands in her hair, and she squeezed her eyes closed. "Oh, my baby." She couldn't breathe. It was her daughter that was being held hostage by that sadist bastard. It was her daughter. The daughter she had given up to keep her safe. Oh, God. This wasn't happening. This wasn't true. It couldn't be true. She put Sophia up for adoption to keep her safe. She knew her little girl was safe. She couldn't be here. She couldn't be...kidnapped. No, no, no, no. This couldn't be happening again. God, please don't let this happen again!

"You said her mom died!" Carol reasoned. "The birth date has to be a coincidence."

"Yes, _dead to me_!" he retorted. "You abandoned her! You left her in the system and didn't even tell me you were pregnant! You didn't even give me a chance to decide if I wanted her! You bitch."

"You hate me so much you think of me as dead?"

"Yeah, I do." There was a sharpness to his tone. "How could you do that? She was your baby! She was a small, defenseless little baby, and you just threw her into the system? How could you be so heartless? She didn't do anything to you! She was just born, and she wasn't good enough for you? She wasn't worth keeping? You didn't even try to keep tabs on her, did you? You were just gonna let whatever the hell might have happened to her happen. You...heartless bitch. All that talk...was just guilt, wasn't it? You'll stop at nothing to save a kid, but you just tossed your own out into the cold."

"Yeah, yeah I did. And look where you threw her. Right into the blood-covered hands of a sadist killer. Good work! Dad of the fucking year!" She rolled her eyes. "You're a piece of work, trying to blame this on me, when my plan would have kept her safe!"

"You don't even know that! You ain't ever had a kid, so just shut the hell up! You don't know anythin'!" His words were venomous and sharp. "You didn't even try to give her a chance to be with me! You just decided I wasn't worthy as a father and threw her to the goddamn wolves!"

"Tsh." She pulled her legs in. "Go to hell, Daryl."

"After you," he shot back.

She buried her face in her knees. God, this couldn't be happening. Her baby couldn't be in the hands of the Governor. He was lying. He had to be lying. He couldn't have known Sophia was hers. She made sure nobody else but Michonne knew she was pregnant. And Rosita found out simply because she's observant as hell, and Carol couldn't hide her pregnancy alone after a certain point. They were the only two; Caesar didn't even know. He assumed she took the leave of absence for undercover work, and she let him keep that assumption for his own safety. They had made damn sure nobody knew, and she made sure no one could ever find out it was her baby. She had been so thorough. And it was all crumbling down around her as Phillip continued to play his cruel little game, trying to turn them against each other, trying to hurt them in the worst ways.

Maybe that was it. A game. He was lying. Perhaps he didn't know. How could he have known? Sophia wasn't hers. She couldn't be. The birth dates were similar, yes, and she couldn't explain that, but plenty of babies were born on the same day. It wasn't too strange. He was just trying to get into their heads and make them hate and tear each other apart so that when he came for them, there would be little left. That was all this was. A mind game. It couldn't be more than that. She prayed it wouldn't be more than that, because she could not go through this again.

But why would he lie? He didn't seem like the type. He wanted them to hurt, but he wanted them to choke on facts, not fiction. That's the type of man he was profiled as, and from what she'd seen, it was spot on. He knew. Somehow he knew all of it, didn't he? Sam. Rick. Sophia. He knew about them, about her. This was all a game to him, and at the end of it, they would die knowing they couldn't save the one thing that meant the world to both of them. Daryl would never understand why she did what she did, and she would never tell him why. He could hate her with his last breath, and she would welcome it rather than tell him the truth. The truth was too much to swallow, but hate? Anger? They were like air and water compared to the cold, heavy truth.

Daryl observed Carol closely, unable to read her emotions or see what she thinking as her face was in her knees, but he could imagine. His mind was reeling. He couldn't believe he didn't put it together faster. The hair, the skin, the same determined. Sophia got her strength from her mom—from Carol. Jesus, how did he not see it? He knew there something familiar about her. He just couldn't place what. Now he knew, and he wished that he didn't. He didn't want to hate her. He knew her, and he couldn't hate her, but he fucking hated Sophia's birth mom. He always had. She never gave him a chance, never gave Sophia a chance, and it turned out the woman he brought in to bring his baby girl home had given birth to her. Fate was a bitch, and so was Carol.

However at the same time, she wasn't. She was as broken as he was, and she was kind and understanding and devoted to her job. She was devoted to getting Sophia back. She was a good person. He could see it and feel it, and yet he couldn't fit the Carol he knew from watching and being with her these past few days and the woman who abandoned their daughter together. The edges were rough and the lines didn't connect. It made no sense. He just chose her out of the blue for her skill and heart, and this happened? How? What the hell?

– – –

"Rosita." Merle tossed Gareth's phone on the table by her. "A little gift."

"I like rose gold, not fresh blood." She plugged it in. "Who?"

"Gareth."

"So he's dead?"

"Yeah, but not by me. It was the sniper. The little ass Phillip sends out." He folded his arms. "I brought his car, so you can find out where Phillip is."

"All right. Noah." She left him to man the computer. "Caesar. Let's go."

Merle looked at the man in the corner of the room. "Who the hell is this?"

"Your choice." She tossed an arm over his shoulder. "Caesar Martinez."

"Why the hell he is here?"

"We need him." She met his eyes. "We have to do this legally, and he's just the cop to help us get this legal."

"And Carol's like family. I'm going to make sure she comes home," Caesar added.

"I respect that." Merle nodded. "Go ahead. I'll get along."

"Yep." She led Caesar out to the front where the car would be and removed her arm. "See? Not so bad."

"Not so good either."

"We can find Carol and do it without all filing paperwork or getting a court order or whatever else we'd need. We're making it so we find who we need to find before someone ends up dead."

"And how are we going to tell them we came cross one of the Governor's cars?"

"I'll handle that stuff later, make it legit, and no trouble will fall on you. I promise."

"I just want to get this over with. I just want Carol home. I understand wanting to protect a child, but I don't want to be friends with your people."

" _Our_ people." She set her hands on her hips. "We're connected in more ways than you can ever know." She pushed the door open and spotted the car. "C'mon."

"What do you mean?"

"Blood. It's all about blood, Caesar." She opened the driver's side and climbed in. "Let's find out where Gareth's been going."

"Whose blood?"

"You'll see."

He shook his head and walked around to the passenger side, getting inside as she pulled up the locations he visited the most. "How do you do this?"

"I just make it look easy in shit company." She smirked.

"Is this why you put trackers in Carol's earrings?"

"Yes. I wanted to make sure she was okay. I wasn't going to let them kidnap her without having part of me there. I showed them the layout, but I wasn't personally involved. They didn't even tell me when, because they didn't want my emotions to screw it up. Assholes. I am the best out of all of them at concealing my emotions." She shook her head and narrowed her eyes.

"What?"

"I know this place. I've been here before. It was...before I worked for the NYPD, before Daryl saved me." She scoffed. "Let's go. I'll call it in."

"How in the hell are you going to legalize this? We got a car from the brother of the Archer who didn't murder a man yet is soaked in his blood."

She pursed her lips. "I'll work it out. Right now, we need to find Carol, and I'll take the fall if I have to."

"No."

"Who then? You? Mr. By-The-Book? Please, they'd believe you were a killer before they'd believe you were a mole." She could see he wasn't about to let her go down for this, even though the punishment was rightly hers. "We'll come up with something."

"We will," he promised.

––

"Where's Daddy?" Keira whined softly. "I'm hungry."

"He probably got busy finding Carol." She smiled a little. "Let's go grab a bite to eat, okay? He'll understand."

She frowned. "Okay."

"We'll get some ice cream after, and then we'll color in the rest of these paper people." Andrea told Shepard they were going out for Chinese and noticed the office seemed to suddenly be on high alert. She held Keira by the shoulders and wondered what had happened. She would have asked Shepard, but she was pulled aside by Lerner. Andrea decided it was best to get Keira out of there. She didn't want her to overhear something.

As they started down the street, Andrea felt her daughter's eyes on her, and she looked over. "What is it?"

"Do you think Daddy's all right?"

"I know he is. He's made of tough stuff. He'll join us later."

"And Rosita?"

"Why do you ask about her?"

"'Cause she was talking about Daddy before she left. I didn't hear all of it, but I heard his name."

She repressed a frown. "I'm sure they're working together to bring Carol home is all." She changed the subject, not want Keira to linger on that. "What flavor of ice cream do you want?"

"Vanilla."

"With sprinkles?"

"Yes."

"Sounds good. I think I'll have chocolate myself." She smiled at her daughter, wondering what Caesar and Rosita had gotten themselves into. She wasn't worried. Slight confused, but not worried. Why didn't Caesar tell her he and Rosita were working together? They were just following up a lead, so why hide that?

 _The footage had been tampered with. Doctored. That means one of our own is working for the Archer and is pointing us toward the Governor._

 _I'll do anything that helps bring Carol home and that asshole piece of shit Governor down._

 _But if we're being honest, I'd rather see the Governor go down, if we can only catch one of them._

She almost stopped in her trackers. Who else was good at doctoring videos? Rosita Espinosa. She was the mole. And now she was alone with Caesar doing something to save Carol and the Archer and the missing child. He knew. He knew she was the leak. Recently, either she revealed it to him or he figured it out, but she was the mole. Jesus Christ, was there no one genuine in their lives anymore? She needed to find him, but she didn't want to get him hurt, or Rosita. She would just have to wait and see how this all unfolded. Damn it.

She hoped that Rosita knew what she was doing, and she hoped they all came home safely. And if Rosita was revealed, she wondered what she could to aid her. Rosita was a good person, and working Archer, who she knew wasn't a terrible human being, didn't change that. She had spent summer cookouts and birthday parties and move nights with Rosita, and she knew she wasn't a murderer. She wasn't a cruel person. If she was working for the Archer, she had a good reason. Like protecting a little girl. Andrea could understand that. She'd do anything to keep Keira safe. Sometimes breaking the law was the only way to do that. She just hoped Rosita knew what she was doing, and she hoped she made it out of this in one piece.


	17. Spanish Sahara

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

" _Mom!" Sam greeted her with a huge smile. "You're home early!"_

 _She shook her head and hugged him. "I just came for a change of shoes. I'm sorry." She kissed the top of his head. "It's so good to see you though."_

 _He frowned. "Do you ever take a day off?"_

" _I would love to." She traipsed to her bedroom to change out of her clothes and to get a better pair of shoes. "If only—"_

"— _criminals took days off," he finished with her. "Yeah, I know."_

 _She frowned. "I'm sorry, Sam." She closed the door and changed._

" _Me too." He dropped back onto the couch and flipped through the channels, trying to find something interesting to watch. It was too late in December for anything but Christmas shows to be on. He didn't care for them. They were always the same thing, and they weren't true. Santa wasn't real. Rudolph wasn't real. They were just lies. Let downs._

 _Carol exited her room, adjusting her ankle holster around her boot. "Look, baby, why don't we take a trip?"_

" _A trip?" He was uninterested._

" _Yes, a trip." She set money on the counter for him to order pizza. "Just the two of us. We'll go somewhere warm and just spend time together."_

" _Do you mean it this time?" He met her eyes._

" _I swear." She walked over to him and ruffled his hair. "We'll do whatever you want to do, go wherever you want to go, and it'll be great."_

 _He smiled. "Okay. You swear?"_

" _I swear." She smiled back. "We'll go next week for the entire week."_

" _And you mean it?"_

" _Of course I do. I don't swear unless I mean it."_

 _He grinned now and hugged her. "I love you, Mom."_

" _I love you too." She kissed his cheek. "I'm going to call Rick so you don't have to be alone tonight. Unless you want me to drop you off at Andrea and Caesar's."_

" _Nah. I'll call Dad right now. We can finish making that model boat."_

" _Sounds like fun."_

" _It is." He paused. "Maybe we can make something."_

" _Yeah. I look forward to it." She slipped into her coat. "Call him."_

" _I am." He picked up the phone and dialed his number while Carol grabbed a beanie and scarf. "Is it cold out there?"_

" _Yes. And slippery, which is why I want you to stay inside. No snowball fights, young man."_

" _Okay, okay, but that was Dad's fault."_

" _Uh-huh." She adjusted her scarf. "Tell Rick I'll see him tonight. I love you."_

" _Love you too." He put the phone to his ear as it rang. "Be careful, Mom."_

" _I always am." She locked up behind her, hearing Sam talking to Rick, and she headed back to the precinct. The sniper had struck again, and they were getting close. She had a plan on how to get him, and it would work. It had to. This son of a bitch was too good, too slippery, and if they didn't move fast, he would be gone forever. She wouldn't let that happen. She would hunt him down and then go on vacation with Sam. She needed one, and they needed to spend more time together. All she ever did was work, and she wanted that to change. She was going to be there for him more, like her parents—whoever they were—never were. Things were going to change very soon. For the better._

––

" _He just shot the copycat," Caesar growled. "What the fuck are we gonna do? He was in and out within minutes. How do we beat that?"_

" _I—Let me think." Carol demanded. "Growling like an animal won't find him any faster. We just need him to slip up once. Just once."_

" _Carol, he isn't going to. We can't keep stumbling blind around when he's fifteen steps ahead of us. We need to get ahead and now." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."_

" _It's fine. We're all stressed. Just go home, Caesar. Spend time with Andrea, and I'll have something when you come back in."_

" _Andrea's up to her ears in work, and she's at the office right now." He drank from his cup. "I'm staying with you. We'll find something. We only need to get lucky once."_

 _She smiled. "You sound like your mentor."_

 _He chuckled. "What can I say? Desperate times call for desperate measures."_

" _I'll put on another pot of coffee."_

" _I'll order us dinner." He rubbed his chin. "Shouldn't you call Sam? You guys leave in two days. You might need him to pack for you."_

" _Ha ha. We'll find this man before then, and Sam's in bed by now. Mom called."_

" _Mom?"_

" _Your mom." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm exhausted."_

" _It's okay. She'd be happy to hear that. You're like her second daughter. I think she may love you more than me."_

" _It isn't hard." She laughed a little, and he looked affronted. "I'm kidding!"_

" _So was I." He smirked and grabbed his phone. "I'm gonna call Andrea before she goes to bed. Excuse me."_

" _Tell her I said hey."_

" _Will do."_

 _She inhaled and looked over the board, taking it all in, and she narrowed her eyes, seeing something off. She almost laughed outright. It was there. Their luck was right there, staring at them this entire time. Oh, thank God! She didn't waste a second in going to see the Captain. Michonne was going to be thrilled. She might actually be able to go home to her son. Sam wasn't the only one missing his mom._

– – –

 _They were heading out for their trip first thing in the morning, and while Carol didn't know what Sam had in mind or where they were going, she was happy. She hadn't gotten to spend so much time with him since he was a baby. She had been working on this case. The serial sniper. He was an illusive man, but hopefully with the evidence they'd found, they'd get one step closer to finding him and arresting him. Carol enjoyed a challenge, but this asshole. It was like a game to him, and all of them were players. He was just watching from a distance as they stumbled and searched for clues, smirking at their failings. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face—and his face—when they arrested him. Caesar was a little worried with how the sniper seemed to taunt her, but Carol wasn't going to stop until she had him in handcuffs._

 _They had a lot of last minute errands to run before their trip tomorrow, and since their previous plans had been screwed up, Carol decided to walk through the park on their way home. They walked the sidewalk, the sounds of children laughing surrounded them, the sun on their faces the only thing keeping the crisp air from chilling them. That and their coats. It was nice to enjoy the day since most of it had been hectic._

 _Sam was eager to get home. He had chosen where they would be vacating, and he had written it down on a piece of paper that Carol would open and read when they returned to the apartment. She was excited to see where he chosen, and he was excited for her to find out too. He kept pressuring her to take a cab home, but it wasn't too cold today, and she wanted to get some exercise. While all she did at the station was pace, it felt good to get some fresh air as well. They were having such a good time. A much needed reprieve from the stressful few weeks she'd had._

" _So, do I get any guesses?" Carol asked, looking down at her son._

" _No way." His face scrunched._

" _C'mon, we're four blocks from the apartment. Let me guess."_

 _He pressed his lips together. "All right, but you'll never get it right."_

" _Mmm." She inhaled the cold winter air. "How about...Washington?"_

" _No."_

" _North Carolina?"_

" _No."_

" _Oregon then?"_

" _Who wants to go to Oregon?"_

" _I don't know. Maybe you." She lifted her arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. "Tell me something about the state then."_

" _It won't help. You'll never be able to guess it."_

" _Or you haven't decided and you're just stalling."_

" _I know exactly where we're going," he corrected. "And I know you'll like it."_

" _Oh, you know I will, huh? What, did you read my diary?" She arched a brow, and he laughed._

" _No, I just know you well, Mom."_

 _She smiled. "Yeah, you do. I know you too, which is why I baked cookies for the trip."_

" _Chocolate chip?"_

" _And sugar cookies."_

" _Yes!" He grinned. "Thanks, Mom. You're the best! I can't believe we're actually gonna go and have fun."_

" _I gave you my word, and I never break my word." She ruffled his hair. "Now, you need to call your dad when we get home and tell him we're leaving. He'll want to hear from you."_

 _His smile soured. "Do I have to?"_

" _Yes, you do." She knew how he felt about Rick since he got married, and she wanted that to change. He was going to be a big brother in a couple months, and he needed to get used to the fact that he now had two moms. Lori was great. She was kind and funny and supportive. Carol was happy for them. She sent them an antique gravy boat as their wedding gift. She'd forgotten about the wedding since Sam wasn't going to go, and she had to find something to throw together at the last second. It had just been gathering dust in her apartment anyway. Luckily, Rick didn't know it was a re-gift. Or he wasn't letting on that he knew._

" _Why?"_

" _Because you haven't spoken to him since he took us out to dinner four weeks ago. You tolerate him and are curt with him over the phone when I have to work late, and you need a babysitter. You can't be angry at him forever."_

" _I'm not angry."_

" _Yes, you are."_

" _Okay, so I am." He sighed. "I don't get it. Why did he have to marry her?"_

" _Because he loves her, Sam. Lori is a good woman, and one day you'll be a big brother, and you can't avoid that." She looked over his face. "Lori's in our family now."_

" _I know," he grumbled. "I just..."_

" _Want me and Rick to be together?" Carol offered._

" _It's stupid, I know."_

" _It's not. I didn't know my parents. Gloria raised me as her own, so while I didn't wish my parents were together just that they were with me, I do understand. It's not stupid. It's completely natural." She smiled at him. "He's still your dad and still my friend, but that's all. He loves you, Sam, and he always will."_

" _Okay."_

" _And I will always be here for you and will always love you." She had stopped walking and stood in front of him, hands on his slim shoulders. "You know that, right?"_

" _I do." He smiled a little. "It's just weird."_

" _You'll get used to it." She smiled back. "Nebraska?"_

" _You're the worst at this." He laughed._

" _I am trying. It's not like I can read—"_

 _There was a piercing sound that shot through the air, warm blood splattered across her black coat and face, his small body falling forward, face twisting in pain. She caught him out of reflex, falling to her knees, his blood seeping through the wound in his chest onto her pants, and she looked at her little boy with wide eyes, unable to move, unable to speak. People around her were calling 911, sheltering their children from the unknown shooter, and one of them was trying to talk to her, but she couldn't hear them. She couldn't hear anything, see anything, but her son—her baby boy—bleeding out right before her eyes._

 _His wide eyes were in hers, and his hand gripping the sleeve of her coat, his pained groans garbled by the blood that slid down his mouth, and then...his hand fell. Limp and lifeless to the cold ground, his eyes glassing over as his life left him, and Carol screamed his name. He was gone. Ten years of loving and raising, of laughter and light, of happiness and tears and fights about bedtimes and games and never being there—and all of it was gone._

" _Sam!"_

– – –

 _Andrea was making tea just to give herself something to do, Caesar was on the couch with Carol, arm around her back, hand on her shoulder, trying to help her—comfort her—in some way, and it was so silent. Her blue eyes were locked on the envelope with Sam's handwriting in blue ink screaming at her. She held a hand to her mouth, rocking herself back and forth, the tears dry on her face. She wanted to know where he had chosen to go. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend that they could still go there. Together. Somewhere warm. The first time they'd actually get to spend time together in far too long._

 _Rick came busting into the apartment, having just got the message Andrea had left him two hours ago, and he took one look at Carol and—collapsed. He fell to the floor, heart wrenching sobs tearing through him, the denial escaping his lips softer and softer then in one loud scream of no, and he gripped his hair. Within seconds, he was as broken as the rest of them._

 _ **So I walked into the haze and a million dirty ways**_

 _ **Now I see you lying there like a lilo losing air, air**_

 _The numbness settled over them, swallowing all of the air inside their lungs and at the same time using that air to fill their chest. A weight, a pressure, that couldn't be removed. It was invisible, constantly adding more and more weight, relentlessly suffocating them from the inside out. Shards of glass nestling in their stomachs, each movement puncturing a vital organ, causing them to bleed out inside, causing them such agonizing sorrow, and the pressure just kept adding on._

 _Carol sat in the darkness of Sam's room, holding his pillow to her chest, rocking herself, the sound of voices in the other room, and she buried her nose in the scent of her son. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine him there with her. She could see his face and hear his laugh and for a brief moment everything was all right. The world was a kind place, and it had all been worth it._

 _Then she would hear Caesar making arrangements for his funeral and the lies came crashing back down. That numbness would settle over chest, only relieved by the brutal pains in her stomach, and just when she thought it wouldn't get any worse, the numbness began to choke her. She was dying from the inside out. Her body felt like it was trying to die, and she honestly wasn't sure if she minded. If death could grant one moment of relief from this...then by all means did she welcome it. Who does this? What kind of world does this?_

 _ **Black rocks and shoreline sand**_

 _ **Still that summer I cannot bare**_

 _ **And I wipe the sand from my arms**_

 _Skinned knees. Messy room. Messy hair. Addition to sugar. Love of video games. Love of life. Green. Cowboys. Sneaky little devil. Smug smile, like his father. Same eyes. Rolling his eyes. A gentle soul. So kind and giving. Blue. Trucks. Finn and Jake. Gray hoodie. Torn jeans. Always torn by the ankle. Clumsy kid. Hiding in the hall closet on Halloween. Trying to wait up for Santa. Waiting up for Rick. Waiting up for her. Gray. Swimming. Apples. Cookies. Scary movies. Liked to watch the news, wanted to learn about the world. Wanted to be a cop too. Wanted to be like Michonne one day. Captain, very cool title. Wanted to take Andre ice skating. Couldn't beat him at racing game. Hoped to beat him at skating. English. Never history or math. Loved science. Longed for a puppy. Had bought a gift for his baby brother or sister. Didn't know. Under the bed._

 _ **The Spanish Sahara, the place that you'd wanna**_

 _ **Leave the horror here, forget the horror here**_

 _ **Forget the horror here, leave it all down here**_

 _ **It's future rust and then it's future dust**_

 _Caesar lingered outside Carol's bedroom, calling her doctor to tell her nothing had changed. She hadn't slept for more than an hour in almost a week. She wouldn't eat. She wouldn't leave her room. She kept rocking herself. Nobody could get through to her. He was worried. The funeral was tomorrow. He had hoped she'd improve, but that wasn't the case. She only worsened, and now she was on the verge of being hospitalized if she didn't eat. Andrea had managed to get her to drink something, but she couldn't choke down food. He knew Carol, and this wasn't her. How could it be her? The only blood family she'd ever had was ripped away from her in one violent, cruel moment._

" _Hey." Andrea set a hand on his forearm. "Dinner's ready."_

" _I'm not hungry." He met her eyes. "I'm gonna try to get her to eat."_

" _You need to eat too."_

" _I will." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I just want her to eat first."_

" _I'll make her a plate." She glanced at Carol then headed down the hall to the kitchen._

 _ **Forget the horror here**_

 _ **Forget the horror here, leave it all down here**_

 _ **It's future rust and then it's future dust**_

 _Carol had finally left the house. Sam's funeral was tomorrow, and she needed to see Rick. He was at a bar, drowning his sorrow in beer and shots, and she joined him. Caesar wouldn't approve, but he was busy dealing with the wake. He didn't think she would want that, and she didn't. Pot lucks were depressing enough. She didn't want them in her home. She didn't want to be alone either though. She would have Rick and Lori and Caesar and Andrea. They would be enough. They would keep her sane. They had to. She couldn't live like this. It was killing her._

 _Rick looked at her with red-rimmed eyes, swallowing the last drink of his beer. "How could you?"_

 _Her empty blue eyes fell on his face and nothing escaped her lips._

" _He all but told you to back—the—hell—off—and—you—kept—pursuing—him!" He spoke through gritted teeth. "He took—he took my son!"_

" _It was my job," she replied in a whisper._

" _It was your job to look after our son," he corrected. "You didn't. You just...let him die. You—you didn't even try to save him!"_

 _"He punctured his lung," Carol reminded Rick. "There was nothing I could do."_

 _He gripped the bridge of his nose and broke down into sobs. "Oh, God."_

 _ **Now the waves they drag you down**_

 _ **Carry you to broken ground**_

 _ **Though I find you in the sand**_

 _ **Wipe you clean with dirty hands**_

 _Carol gazed up at the ceiling, the bottle of rum between her legs almost empty, and she had lost track of time. Rick was gone. She didn't know when he left. She just knew that he was gone now. She couldn't focus on anything, her mind a clouded mess, and it was blissful. She knew she would regret this, but for now, it was the most peace she'd gotten since Sam was murdered and died in her arms._

 _Lifting the bottle to her lips, she drank deeply until it was empty, and then she reached for her beer._

 _ **So goddamn this boiling space**_

 _ **The Spanish Sahara, the place that you'd wanna**_

 _ **Leave the horror here**_

 _Andrea woke her up for the funeral, her clothes laid out on the end of her bed, and she groaned, more hungover than she had ever been. She stood up and fell down, and Andrea watched her face and handed her the wastebasket before she got sick, gathering her hair back._ _Once her stomach had settled, she took a shower and got ready. Andrea had brought her coffee and pulled her hair up into a bun, talking to her about the message Rick had left, and Carol rubbed her temple._

" _I know it's hard, but you can't do that." Andrea locked eyes with her in the mirror. "Getting drunk isn't going to help anybody."_

" _Andrea, I know you mean well, but shut up." She closed her eyes. "It was one night."_

 _She repressed a scoff. "Fine. I'll see you downstairs."_

" _Yeah."_

 _Andrea grabbed her purse and left the apartment building, meeting Caesar by the car. "She'll be down in a few minutes."_

" _How is she?"_

" _Hungover and bitchy." She folded her arms. "I don't really know what to do. I'm looking into therapy, if she'll agree."_

" _Whoa, whoa, therapy? Let's just get her through today."_

" _Caesar, this doesn't end today," Andrea snapped. "It's **never** going to end! Sam was her child, and now he's dead. You can't just bury him and have that be it!" She shook her head at him. "We need to look at the bigger picture here. Carol could become an alcoholic to avoid feeling the loss of her son. That's a very realistic possibility here, and you can't ignore that."_

" _I'm not trying to," he hissed. "I'm just trying to take this one damn day at a time, all right? I'm just trying to get myself through this."_

 _She exhaled. "I know. So am I."_

" _I never thought we'd be burying Sam," he whispered, voice shaking. "I thought... Christ, I don't know, but it shouldn't be him."_

 _She held him. "I'm here, and I'm not leaving you. We'll get through this together." She buried her face in his shoulder. "I promise."_

 _He inhaled deeply, a sob choking him, and he nodded._

 _Carol watched them from inside the building and hesitated before joining them. She wasn't ready for this. The last time she was at a funeral, it was Karen's, and she knew who killed her. She had no clue who killed Sam. Well, she knew, but she didn't at the same time. She had no face nor voice, no finger prints nor shell casings. The illusive sniper. He would pay for what he did to Sam, and honestly she didn't care if he was armed or not, he was going to feel her anger and pain and have a hole left inside him for the rest of his short life. That was a promise._

 _ **Forget the horror here,**_

 _ **Forget the horror here**_

 _ **Leave it all down here**_

 _Rick stood by Carol, Lori to the left of him, and Carol felt his hand clasp hers. It was an unspoken apology. What he had said was just drunken rage, and he knew she did all she could. He knew his son couldn't have been saved, and while it destroyed him, he knew this man may never pay for this. Carol would follow him to the ends of the Earth, and surely this fucker knew that. He had to have known that. He killed both Sam and Carol that day, and she wasn't ever going to let that go. He knew that one day, be it twenty or fifty years in the future, Carol would find and she would bring him to justice. He could only hope it was legal justice, not vengeance._

 _She squeezed his hand tightly, eyes closed but still she saw the casket with her little boy inside. She wanted this to be over. She wanted it all to just be buried and done, and she wanted to be buried with it. It was her fault. She had relentlessly hunted this man, knowing he may never be caught, and she saw the signs, knew what he was capable of. Yet still she hunted and hunted. And he hunted right back. What she wouldn't give to have taken that bullet. At her height, it would have gone through her shoulder, and he would be fine. He would be here with them._

 _ **It's future rust and then it's future dust**_

 _Lori set a hand on Rick's shoulder before he placed a single rose on his son's casket, Carol beside him, holding tightly to the red rose whose thorns dug into her fingertips, and she saw something in the corner of her eye. She turned her head, but it was too late._

 _The rose fell from his fingers, landing to the ground and drops of blood landed beside it. Lori screamed, Caesar wrapped himself around his wife like a vine and pushed her to the ground, and the rest of the crowd followed. All but Carol, that is._

 _She stood still, Rick's blood on her face, and she lifted her head, knowing he was watching, and she clenched her teeth. She was going to tear him apart._

 _ **I'm the fury in your head, I'm the fury in your bed**_

 _ **I'm the ghost in the back of your head**_

 _ **'Cause I am**_

– – –

 _The sniper had been sent to kill the cop that had been stepping on the Governor's nerve, and he was delighted to learn he was close to the only worthy player in the game. He killed the boy, because he could. He had been given no order and the Governor would not have approved, but sometimes going rogue was the only way to find a truly suitable opponent. He had found her, and she was ready to finally play. He couldn't wait._

 _ **Forget the horror here, forget the horror here**_

 _ **Leave it all down here**_

 _ **It's future rust and it's future dust**_

 _Carol went to Lori and held her back. "Don't, Lori." She held her as she collapsed at the sight of her dead husband, clutching her stomach, trying to hold onto the only thing she had left of him, and she sobbed. "I am so sorry."_

 _She held back a sob and met Carol's eyes. "Find him," her voice was deep, broken. "You find him."_

" _I swear."_

 _She nodded and closed here eyes as tears poured from her eyes, trying to unsee the gunshot wound through Rick's forehead._

 _Carol looked at Rick, the anger inside of her swelling, and she wanted to tear this city down to find this motherfucker and make him pay for not only taking her child and dear friend away but Lori's husband and unborn child's father away. And why? What did he have to gain by doing this? Did he want to antagonize her? Did he want to push her over the edge? Or was this all a game to him and they were just pawns? Did he want her? Did he see her as some sort of queen on a chess board? Some...opponent that he saw as an equal? What the hell did he want from her?_

 _She knew what he was doing to her. Pushing her more and more toward gunning him down. Son of a bitch would get the devil's share._

 _ **I'm the fury in your head, I'm the fury in your bed**_

 _ **I'm the ghost in the back of your head**_

 _ **'Cause I am**_

 _~Two Years Later~_

" _I know I can find him," Carol persisted. "I just need a little more time and resources!"_

" _No." Michonne met her eyes. "You've spent two years of your life hunting this man, and you've found nothing. I know what this means to you, but the trail has gone cold. Now we have cases that actually need your attention and have fresh leads. I'm sorry, but no. These people need you more, and I know that sounds callous and unfair, but you have nothing. Two years and you have nothing!"_

" _I can feel that I'm close," Carol begged. "I just need—"_

" _No! I don't want to hear this again. That's an order. Go to your desk and Martinez will inform you of the case he and Espinosa have been working."_

" _Michonne—"_

" _Don't," she cut Carol off. "Don't try and get me to change my mind on this. You come here every day and look at old leads, casting aside cases that need your attention. You have bled this case dry, and there is nothing more you can do. I have been patient, but I can't be any longer."_

 _She lowered her eyes. "I understand."_

" _Do you?"_

" _Yes."_

" _I know you've been drinking," Michonne lowered her voice. "I can smell it on you. I see it when you walk and more and more do your words slur together." She searched her face. "Get your act together, Williams. Or you're finished entirely."_

 _Carol nodded. "Yes, Captain."_

 _She heaved a sigh. "I'm your friend, Carol. Our sons used to play little league together. Andre misses Sam too. Every day. I miss Sam as well. You can't spend your life getting drunk and chasing a ghost. He wouldn't want that. If you want to honor Sam, live. That's all you can do."_

 _Tears burned in the back of her eyes. "Live? You make it sound so easy."_

" _I know it won't be, and the road back will be hell, but you have to start now. Right now." She locked eyes with her. "I'll work with you, but I need your word."_

 _She inhaled deeply. "And you have it. I'll—I'll get help."_

" _I'm here for you, Carol." She smiled a little at her. "We all are."_

" _I know." She returned the smile. "I'm going to head home. Um, I'll be back in on Thursday. I—I just need a couple days to get my head on straight."_

" _Okay, but when you walk back through those doors, I want the Carol I used to know back. Or as much of her as you have left."_

" _Yes, ma'am." She stepped out of her office and walked out of the building. She had three days to get her head on straight. Where did she start?_

––

 _In a musty bar, apparently. She wasn't going to drink as much as she usually had. She was only going to have one or two drinks, the last before she stopped entirely. It wasn't as though Michonne had someone follow her, and she needed a drink after receiving the news she had. She didn't know if she was furious or depressed. She didn't know what the hell feel or think anymore. She was just ready to have it all over. Not her life or her job, just this case. She wanted it closed, not cold. She wanted to bring justice, for Sam and Rick and Lori and Carl. She wanted to do that for them, and she couldn't. She had so much rage inside of her, so much self-loathing and every day it grew worse. She had failed the only person that mattered, and she continued to fail him._

 _She should have taken him that day. If they had left for wherever he had planned, he would still be alive. She would still have her son. Carl would have his big half-brother. Lori may not have had Rick. Carol had come to the conclusion that he wasn't murderer because of her but the case he had been working. Rick was as determined as she was, so if he was getting close to a lead... it would make sense to stop him before he got any further. Sam was murdered because the sniper just wanted her to hurt, wanted her either off his trail or on it with even more zeal. And now she had done both. She had hunted him as far as she could and he slipped out of the sight; now she was constrained to put her files and his way of thinking into a box, never to be touched or looked again unless he struck again._

 _Looking over the fifth drink in her hand, she felt someone watching her. She looked over and noticed a man watching her. He was watching everyone in the room, like he was trying to pick out who was good and who was bad in the bunch, and she wondered if he was a thug or a rookie cop. He wasn't entirely obvious about it, but she could tell he was looking for someone, rather something, in the people here._

 _He was young, likely late twenties to early thirties, with messy brown eyes covering narrow blue eyes. He wore a leather jacket, though a black collar could be seen, and he also wore black jeans. They were new—the entire outfit—and he was picking his thumbnail. He was either nervous or just did it out of habit. He was just a figure in the back of the room, and she narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what on earth he was doing. He looked like a vampire but felt more like a ghost. He was silent, his gaze not wicked or smug, and he didn't call attention to himself. A vampire made sure people knew he was there, that he had all the power, that he would kill if he had to, and deep in his eyes you knew he wanted to. What brought a ghost to this bar of vampires?_

 _She ordered two more drinks and carried them over him. If she couldn't figure out who he was exactly by the time their conversation was over, she wouldn't continue to search for the sniper on her own. If she couldn't make out this exact profile, she needed to refine her skills and then try again. If she needed to be better, she would need practice. And she needed to be better. She couldn't let what happened to Sam and Rick ever happen again._

" _No, thank you," the man said to her offer._

 _She just smiled. "Why not?"_

 _He looked over her shoulder briefly and inhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why not?" He accepted the drink._

" _Sit with me. I could use some company."_

 _He once again complied, but he was tense and held tightly to the drink. He looked over the woman whose smile was too sweet to be at all real. She had waves of dark red curls that just barely brushed her shoulders, her eyes were open and gorgeously blue, and she wore a purple v-neck and slacks. She was either a lawyer or a cop. And she wouldn't be in this particular bar if she didn't have the means to protect herself, so he was thinking cop. Still she was beautiful, and she wanted to talk to him. She was pretty drunk already, as she had consumed five drinks prior to the ones they now were having. If she clearly wasn't on duty then what was she doing? Maybe he was wrong, and she wasn't a cop. Well, either way, he was curious to find out._

 _He had been sent here to just try and profile the people in the bar. It was his first time doing this alone. Usually he had help. Well, not help, backup. If he doubted someone, he'd just ask. He always got an answer. He should have asked Merle to come with him, but he had to do this alone. He had to find his own men and his own name. He may have taken over the position, but he had to make it his own. He had to become his own person and remold the cast left behind with him. That was something he had to do by himself. He couldn't follow Merle around anymore. This was his way now, and he would walk it. Soon, he wouldn't be walking it alone._

" _What brings you here?" he inquired._

" _How about something a little more simple?" she suggested._

" _Okay. What's your name?"_

" _Jane." She tilted her drink toward him. "And what do they call you?"_

 _He smirked. "John."_

 _She laughed, and it was a real laugh. He was being coy. How adorable. "Is your last name Doe as well?"_

 _He chuckled. "Why not?"_

" _Well, John, I'm here because I've recently been released from my job." Well, a case. A case that she would spend the rest of her life trying to close, no matter what happened here tonight. She knew she would never stop, but she needed a distraction._

" _I can see why you need a drink." He met her eyes. "What did you do?"_

" _I didn't do my job well enough." None of them. She failed as a detective, as a mother, as a friend. She should have been fired. She downed her drink._

" _Why come here? This ain't the safest bar."_

 _A ghost of a smile spread across her lips. "I can handle myself."_

" _I don't doubt it."_

 _She rested her chin on her palm. "What are you doing here? You don't seem like the type of person to be in this bar."_

" _You don't know what kind of person I am."_

" _I can guess."_

" _Oh, yeah?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _Let's see about that."_

––

 _It was decided somewhere between talking and the tequila shots that they were going back to her place. Somewhere in the middle of the many shots and the coy conversations, her smile and laugh became to much and the drinks did little to keep her attention, and they had found each other's mouths instead of drinks. Drunk as they both were, they were lucky to have even hailed a cab, let alone managed the stairs at her apartment and the locks on her door._

 _The front door had only been closed because he had fallen back against it. They both just laughed, and he encircled her waist with his arms, the scent of soap flooding his sense as she kissed him. She was different than he had expected, and while he knew he probably should just leave before this went any further, he didn't. He wanted to stay, and she wanted him to stay. It was only once. Tonight. That was all._

 _He pushed his jacket off her shoulders—at some point he had either given it to her, or she just took it, he wasn't sure which it was—and he brought her closer by her hips, the feel of her almost too much. He had encounters with other woman, but there was something about her. He didn't know what or why, but he felt like a moth drawn to a flame, and he didn't mind._

 _She pulled back and locked the front door out of habit then set her hands on his lower abdomen, grinning at him, and she pushed him gently down the hall to her bedroom. It was even darker in her room, but they found each other just fine and their clothes found the floor just as well._

 _In the dark what they couldn't see, they felt. Her touch was like fire, and the more she touched him, the more he burned. He felt as though she could reduce him to ashes and he would happily welcome it. And as dangerous as her touch was, her skin felt like silk. He kissed her, parting her lips with his, and she grasped the hair on the nape of his neck, her nails scraping his skin. He groaned into her mouth, and she smiled against his._

 _He pulled back and kissed her neck, trailing kisses down her torso, and she raised up on her elbows, only seeing his outline in the darkness. She could feel him, and she closed her eyes, lips parting as his head dipped between her thighs and his tongue slipped inside of her._

– – –

 _She woke to sunlight shining in her eyes, and she groaned, burying her face in her pillow. She rolled over and checked the time, seeing it was ten in the morning, and she sat up, feeling a pounding as strong a rave in her head. She exhaled and noticed a box at the end of her bed._ _Tucking the sheet around her, she stood up and approached it, seeing a note from "John". She pushed hair from her face and opened the box, finding his remedy for a hungover inside, along with a number to a restaurant that made killer pancakes apparently, and she smiled, helping herself to the aspirin._

 _The phone rang, and she answered it just so she wouldn't have to hear it ring again. It was Caesar._

" _I called you ten times. Where the hell were you?"_

" _Could you talk softly?" She leaned on the counter. "Whisper softly."_

" _Are you hungover?"_

" _Yeah, I am—it's the last time." She lowered her forehead onto the cool counter top. "I promise."_

" _I hope so, because I need your help with this case. Sober Carol, not your current state."_

" _I'll be in first thing tomorrow. E-mail me what you have, and I'll look at it."_

" _All right. Thank you."_

" _I'll see you tomorrow."_

" _Tomorrow then."_

 _She hung up and noticed the writing on the bottle of aspirin. It read: Tonight? It wasn't really a question, and she already knew the answer. It wasn't a good idea. They were both lying to each other last night, mostly. What they revealed about themselves were only half-truths. Honestly, she couldn't believe it had gone as far as it had. She wasn't the type for one nightstands, and clearly that still held true if she went to see him tonight. When she saw him tonight. There was no point lying to herself. She wanted to see him again, at least get his real name._

––

" _Where the hell were you?" Rosita demanded at Daryl as he joined them. "I told you we needed to talk."_

" _Yeah, I told you I had plans," he replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Things happened. We'll reschedule."_

" _We can't afford to constantly reschedule, Daryl." She folded her arms. "What was so important?"_

" _A woman," Merle guessed._

 _A small smirk crossed Daryl's lips as he drank his coffee._

" _Are you kidding me?" Rosita sighed. "Whatever. We need to talk. Tonight."_

" _I can't. I have...plans." He stood up and headed down the hall._

 _She hung her head. "All right, Merle. We'll have the talk, and you can rehash it to Daryl. If I have to wait for him, I'll be late for my day job."_

 _He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."_

" _My mother is ma'am. I'm the hacker."_

" _Ain't much of a nickname."_

" _Then Rosita." She shouldered her computer bag and headed to where the boys were. She was curious to see if Abe wanted to get lunch later, and she needed to prepare for her meeting with Merle. He would be the one she would be dealing with after all._

 _Daryl entered his bedroom and set his coffee on the nightstand, dropping on the bed and kicked off his boots. He needed to shower. He still smelled like her fabric softener and the bar and the booze. He was too exhausted to shower. He hadn't gotten much sleep since he...came into his "power", and then he went hunting for new people and then his night with "Jane". Heh. He hadn't expected that. It was a good thing to be surprised by. He hoped she came tonight. He wanted to know her real name. A name to match her face._

 _He sighed and lied down. He would talk to Rosita first thing tomorrow morning. For now, all he wanted to do was sleep. He couldn't think about what may or may not happen tonight. He was still lingering on what happened last night._

 _Rosita was going to kill him. He just knew it. And she would be right to. He couldn't be involved with someone—not that they were involved. Well, in a way. This feeling inside of him—this anticipation, this nervous energy—was not good. Not for somebody like him. He wanted to talk to her and know her name and get to know her better. Being who he was—or who he was just becoming—wasn't good for someone like her. If they were to ever date, she would be leverage to all of his enemies. He couldn't do that to her. She deserved better, so tonight was the last night. Damn, he hoped she showed._

– – –

 _That night when "John" left to meet "Jane", Rosita decided to see what the hell was so damned important. She followed him to a dank bar, and she was about to get out and ask what was so special when she saw who he was meeting, and she nearly laughed. She hadn't expected that to happen, and she certainly hadn't see her like that before._

 _Carol Williams, dressed in all black, greeted a man she didn't know was a criminal. She looked good. Better than the last time Espinosa had seen her. She was working the all black attire. She actually looked pretty hot. Why had Rosita never seen this part of her? She thought Carol had three parts outside of her work: cop, mom and drunk. The drunk was soon to change or she'd lose her job and worse. Was this replacing the drunk or...was this strictly a booty call? She didn't think Carol was like that. However if she was the reason why Daryl hadn't come home last night, it was a little more than just sex._

 _She sighed. She would have to talk to Daryl when he returned home. Tomorrow most likely. He couldn't be involved with Carol. She was still in mourning and still a dedicated detective, and eventually she'd find out about who he really was, and that would be disastrous for all of them. Why couldn't he be adopting a pet? They could use a good guard dog. Well, that's likely what Abe's for._

 _Well, she had her answer, and now she no longer felt the need to drag him out by his earlobe. If Carol ever found out who this guy really was, it would be best if Rosita was nowhere near him before then. Or even after then. They were both adults, and it was their...thing, and she wasn't going to get involved until Daryl came home tomorrow._

––

 _They had a few drinks at the bar, but they didn't stay long. It was a nice night, so they went for a walk, speaking on things that revealed little on who they truly were. They coyly danced around the subject of names and jobs, always returning to hobbies or other interests. They had quite a bit in common, and it was refreshing to talk to someone about anything but work. Or the past. They spoke only on the future when it came to anything personal._

" _Care to give me a name?" Carol whispered, hands on his chest, her nose almost touching his._

 _He smiled a little. "Do you?"_

" _Anne," she replied. "My middle name."_

" _Jane Anne?"_

 _She laughed. "We both know that isn't my first name. Just like we both know John isn't yours. You don't even look like a John."_

" _True." He stroked her cheek, pushing a curl from her face. "Dixon."_

" _Last name?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _I can see it." She leaned up and kissed him, sliding her hands up and cupping the base of his neck. She didn't mind not knowing his first name. It would make walking away easier. She had to walk away too. The last time anybody was close to her, they were both gunned down. She wouldn't let that happen to him, and while they weren't as close as she had been with Rick or Sam, he was still physically close to her. If that bastard sniper saw them together, he may kill this man, and she would not have his blood on her hands. She couldn't. Tonight was the last night. She owed herself one more night, and she wanted it. Yesterday was a hello, and tonight was goodbye. She was good at goodbyes. After all she'd had so much practice._

 _He pulled her flush against him, his arm around her hips, and his other hand cupped her cheek. He could smell her shampoo, and while it wasn't peach, it was still very pleasant. He would forever think of her when he tasted peach, and that's all he would allow himself. He wasn't good at relationships to begin with and this position made it so he could never be in a serious relationship. He knew that this could lead somewhere, but he could never allow that to happen. He wasn't going to regret it, or think about what he might be missing. She would certainly miss her life more if it were taken from her. He wouldn't have her blood on his hands. He wouldn't have anybody's blood on his hands. That was a vow he intended to keep. There were other ways to command people, and it didn't always have to be violent. His enemies were violent enough, and he wouldn't subject her to that violence, not ever. He hated goodbyes. He wasn't good at them, and he never knew what to say. He just fucking hated them._

 _When they pulled back, it was decided that once again they would go to her place. His was currently occupied by his brother and a few good men and Rosita, so there was no other actual option._

– – –

 _Carol headed into the station and made her way to her desk, dropping the empty water bottle into the trash on her way. She set her jacket on the back of her chair and dropped down, logging into her computer and checking her emails._

" _Good morning, beautiful." Caesar set a coffee down on her desk. "Hazelnut and two espresso shots. And a bear claw."_

" _Ooh, someone had sex." She took the bear claw and bit into it, smirking at him._

 _He just laughed and took a seat on the edge of her desk. "How'd you sleep?"_

" _Well enough." She set the coffee down by the keyboard. "And you?"_

" _Well enough." He glanced at her screen. "What're you doing?"_

" _I'm trying to make sure there are no loose ends on...Matthew's case."_

" _Carol—"_

" _He's a little incompetent lately is all. I trust him, but he's been strange lately." She glanced over at the new detective. "It's a gut feeling."_

" _Well, bring your gut and your feelings over here. We got a new case. It's your favorite: buried bodies."_

" _You always bring me the sweetest things," she sarcastically replied, following him. "Bodies? Plural?"_

" _Three to be exact." He plopped into his seat and showed her the pictures. "A Mr. White found them when he was...looking for buried goods."_

 _She pulled the pictures closer. "Well, he certainly found something."_

" _So, who's driving?"_

" _You can." She picked up the picture of the young man then set it down. "Look at his wrists—at how they're bound."_

" _Yeah, it's some tight ass knot."_

" _No, Caesar." She grabbed a napkin from her desk and placed the bear claw on it then grabbed an old case file from her drawer. She kept copies of cases she was working on on the side, and she threw down a picture of a young man with similar bound wrists. "Do you remember this?"_

" _Should I?" He studied both pictures._

" _Your memory is a terrifying thing." She sighed. "There was a case about ten years ago where young men were abducted and killed. We found at least fifteen bodies, but any evidence we found led us nowhere and eventually the trail went cold. We never found the killer."_

" _You think this could be him?"_

" _No, I thought the pictures were pretty so I wanted to share them."_

" _You're so cheery this morning, please contain it."_

" _Let's go." She grabbed her drink and breakfast. "And I'll drive. You have some reading to do, kid."_

" _Sure you trust that I can comprehend all these big words?"_

" _You're capable." She grinned at him. "You learned from the best."_

" _That I did." He opened the door for her, and they headed to her car. "And if this is the same guy, we need to be careful."_

" _I'm always careful."_

" _Pfft! Do you remember the last time we were held a gunpoint?"_

" _I told you not to follow me," she reminded him. "You did it anyway, and you gave us away."_

" _So I deserved to get shot at?"_

" _He was a poor shot. You didn't even get nicked." She unlocked the car. "And you survived to tell the tale." She met his eyes. "Really, though, Caesar, you need to get familiar with his guy. He doesn't play around, and if he is back, there's a reason."_

 _He nodded, taking her words to heart, and they got into her car. He read over the file while she finished the bear claw then started her car. He rubbed his temple and looked at her. "If he's back at 100 percent, we're fucked."_

" _Let's hope he's not. It's been a while so let's hope he's gotten sloppy."_

––

 _At the crime scene, Carol took a look at the area and then the bodies as always, listening to the medical examiner, Denise. For some reason though, she felt saliva pooling into her mouth at the scent and sight of the bodies. She had a strong stomach, so she couldn't possibly be nauseated by them. She never was. Caesar was for the longest time, but he outgrew it. She helped him outgrow it. A trick taught to her by her mentor, so why...did she feel so sick?_

" _Are you okay?" Denise studied her face. "You're really pale."_

" _I'm fine." She cleared her throat. "You were saying?"_

" _I can send you a report," she offered. "You look ready to heave, so I'll just do that. I don't need you contaminating the crime scene, or you know, blowing chucks on me."_

" _I'm fine. It's just..." She had to stop speaking, focusing on keeping the bear claw in her stomach._

 _Michonne noticed and led Carol away. "You okay, Williams?"_

" _Yeah. I don't know...what came over me."_

" _You could be sick. It's going around."_

" _I don't get sick," Carol replied._

" _Then you tell me what's wrong. You're either sick or pregnant. We both know we're not hungover."_

" _I'm not. I haven't gone out drinking in two weeks." She leaned against the car and drew in deep breaths. "Maybe I am sick. I don't know."_

" _Why don't you head back to the station? Denise will send you full report once she's done the autopsy, and you can take some medicine."_

 _She covered her mouth and gagged._

" _Here." Michonne guided her toward the grass behind a tree, and she held her hair back when Carol got sick._

 _Rosita was taking pictures of the bodies and spotted Carol through her lens. She lowered the camera. Oh, shit. The last time Carol got sick at a crime scene, she was pregnant with Sam. Son of a bitch. Daryl, you little asshole. She told him to be careful a million times and not only does he get involved with a police officer, he knocks her up. And it's Carol too. Damn it. She's been through enough. Rosita was going to kill him. Then Merle for encouraging him._

" _I'm okay." Carol groaned. "It's...passed."_

" _Yes, right onto the oak." Michonne frowned at her. "Why don't you just go home? See your doctor and make sure you're all right."_

" _It's likely just...food poisoning." She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand._

" _Go make sure. You're one of our best." She folded her arms. "Give me a call when you know what's wrong."_

" _Are you going to make me dinner?" Carol smirked._

" _I make the best chicken noodle soup," she replied, smirking back. "Andre approved and everything."_

 _She laughed. "I'll have to try it."_

" _I'll bring some buy tonight then."_

" _Thanks." She left and asked Rosita to give Caesar a ride back then she drove herself to see Dr. S. She wasn't sure what was wrong, but she had a strong feeling it was food poisoning. She sometimes made casseroles with leftover stuff in the pantry, and they mostly came out good. Not this time apparently. It's a good thing Andrea and Caesar had plans, because he was going to eat with her. She didn't need both of them feeling shitty._

 _She was filling out a form when Rosita dropped into the seat beside her, and she narrowed her eyes at her, not speaking._

" _I thought you could use some company," she said. "We can grab a bite to eat or something to drink after this."_

" _I don't need a babysitter."_

" _But I need you to pay for my lunch." She crossed her legs and smiled. "Really, I left my wallet at home."_

 _Carol chuckled once. "Wow, that is not at all enticing."_

" _I didn't say it was." She sweetened her smile. "Pretty please?"_

" _You're such a child."_

" _Is that a yes?"_

" _We'll see." She rose and turned in the forms._

 _Rosita needed to know exactly what was wrong with Carol. If she was pregnant, the child would be Daryl's. If it was, she would have to make sure he didn't find out. If he ever sought Carol out again, she would fry if he saw that kid. If it was a boy, it'd favor his looks. If it was a girl, Rosita was blessed, because it would favor Carol. She hoped. Sam favored Rick. Sort of. She just needed to know if there was a little Archer Junior on the way, and if there was, she needed to help Carol through this. After Sam...this was the last thing Carol needed or wanted._

" _Do you want something to drink?" Rosita offered._

" _I'm fine. I just want to get this over with."_

 _It would be any second now that Carol would be called back to see her doctor. Rosita wasn't allowed to go. She and Carol were friends, but there was a limit. There always was since Sam died. Andrea probably wasn't even able to go back there. Caesar either. She could always try and tap into Carol's phone. If she even had it with her, that is. She had to know if it was food poisoning or if it was 9 months and eternity._

" _Do you have the time?" Rosita inquired._

" _There's a clock right there."_

" _I don't have my contacts in. I can't read it, and I need to know the date."_

" _You always have your phone with you."_

" _I just want to know the time, Carol. It's not brain surgery. God."_

 _She pulled her phone out. "It's ten-forty-three, February 4th."_

" _Thanks." She shifted closer to her and used her phone to tap into Carol's. "You'll be fine. I'm sure of it."_

" _So am I." She rubbed her temple._

" _And nobody even saw you heave."_

" _Is that why you came? To try and make feel better about puking at a crime scene?"_

" _Yeah, they call you Iron Gut."_

" _What? Who's they?"_

" _Just...a couple of rookies." She shrugged. "You've got a strong stomach, and you've never once puked, no matter how gory or grungy the scene is. It's better than what they call Caesar."_

" _What do they call him?"_

" _Projectile. Or Noodles."_

" _Why 'Noodles'?"_

" _'Cause when he used to get sick, he typically threw up noodles. These boys have the maturity level of sixth's graders, and they're as creative as rocks." She crossed her legs. "And you scare the piss out of them."_

" _Good to know."_

 _She set her hands in her lap. "That's what I am here for."_

" _And here I thought you were here trying to nose your way into my personal life." She looked at her. "I'm not drinking anymore, Rosita. It's...been rough, and I know it'll continue to get harder, but I'm getting help. I won't relapse."_

" _I know that. You're the strongest person I know. I just...want you to know I'm here. Okay? You're my friend, and I am here for you through anything." She set her hand over Carol's. "Anything."_

" _Thanks."_

 _The nurse called her name, Carol gave Rosita a smile and left to see what was wrong with her, and Rosita felt a little shitty about doing this, but she had two jobs, and she was dedicated to both of them. She had to do what was best for both of them, and she had to know._

––

" _We'll have your results as soon as tomorrow," Dr. Subramanian assured her._

 _She nodded. "I anxiously await your call."_

 _He gave her a small smile and let her change in private._

 _She changed and found Rosita still waiting for her, and she told her she wasn't hungry. She just drove home and lied down in bed. She couldn't stand the silence so she dug out her laptop and checked her e-mail, finding the report Denise had mentioned. She read over it and made notes of her own. She then called Michonne and let her know she was fine and that she'd been in soon._

––

" _We may have a problem." Rosita spoke to Merle, heading back to the station after picking up some coffee._

" _What kind of problem? With the latest shipment?"_

" _No, it's not that kind of problem. Those problems don't involve me."_

" _Right. Then what? Are they onto him?"_

" _No, but you might be an uncle."_

" _What? What the hell does that mean? Aside from what I already know it means."_

" _Your baby brother and his two-night relationship may have produced a child." She could hear him pacing. "I don't know just yet, but I'll know as soon as tonight. I just have hack into a hospital database and find her file."_

" _Good. I need to have a talk with Daryl."_

" _No! Not yet. I could be wrong, and we can't have Daryl know he may have a child in nine months. He'll hunt the kid down and try to be in the its life. For the child's sake, we can't let that happen. We need to contain this. Just you and me, okay?"_

 _He groaned. "All right, just you and me."_

" _Good. We need to keep it that way. Until I know."_

" _How do you even know this woman might be pregnant?"_

" _She works with me. I saw them together, and she hasn't been with anybody else."_

" _He bedded a goddamn cop?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Fuck, the one time he actually..." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just make sure."_

" _I always do. Keep calm, Merle."_

" _Calm and me don't really work."_

" _Then have a damn drink and settle down. I'll call you with news."_

" _Call soon."_

 _She hung up and ran a hand through her hair, the cool air blowing in at her, and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. She knew it was going to be positive results, and she knew the father was Daryl. She didn't know how Carol was going to handle being pregnant after losing her child and the father of that child only two years ago. And now she had the problem of alcoholism. She wouldn't risk the baby by drinking, but this would awaken dark things inside of her. And fear. It was making Rosita fearful too._

 _Christ, if that sniper was still stalking her...this child wouldn't last long, and Carol would die. Carol would actually pull her walls up and die. She couldn't lose another child. Fuck. This couldn't get any worse, could it?_

– – –

 _Early the following morning, Carol met Michonne for coffee. She had a lot of thoughts and feelings right now, and she needed to talk to somebody who understood. Michonne still had a child, but her boyfriend, Andre's father, had been killed. She would understand Carol's...concern and restlessness._

" _You're sure?" Michonne searched her eyes._

" _Yes."_

" _What do you want me to do?"_

" _When I start to show, I need time off. If he finds out I'm pregnant, he'll kill this child the second it's born. I can't let that happen, Michonne. I can't lose this child to him." She swallowed hard. "I know he's watching. I can feel him watching me some days, and he may already know I'm pregnant, but I want to make sure he never finds out."_

" _I'll see what I can do, but if you're going to hide this child, you can't keep it."_

" _I know. I'm going to put it up for adoption. It'll be a closed adoption, and I'll make sure no one can trace the baby back to me, or to its father." He could be used as bait to lure Carol or their child in. That's if the parents tell him or her they're adopted. This child likely will want to know who its biological parents are, and Carol will make sure it and any help it may try to get in the future will never find her or the father. That's the only way Carol could keep her baby safe—to cast it off into the world with no ties to its past._

" _And the father? Does he know?"_

" _No. And he won't know."_

" _We'll keep this child safe," Michonne promised._

" _Thank you."_

 _They spoke more on the precautions Carol had to know, she wasn't going to be active in the field, and Carol agreed, her hands on her stomach the entire time, protecting her baby. She would keep her child safe, and she would pray every night after its birth that her child would remain safe and loved and cared for. It was all she could do. Keeping her distance and never knowing how her child turned out was all she could do. At least until she caught the sniper._

 _ **~November 9th 2005~**_

 _Rosita was pacing the waiting room with Abe, Michonne with Carol, and she kept glancing at him nervously. She was about to manipulate it so that Carol's baby went to her father, and she felt like shit, because she knew Carol would have a stroke. Merle was having a stroke over this, but she knew what Daryl would say, what he had said, and she couldn't keep this child from him. She just couldn't. Carol forgive her one day—not that she would find out._

" _It'll be fine," Abe assured her._

" _I know." She met his eyes. "But I'm not fine. I'm...betraying my best friend, and I know it's for a good reason, but still." She gave her word to help this child have a life of love and joy and safety, and she was breaking her word, breaking what Carol valued most, and it was breaking her right back._

 _In the delivery room, the baby was crowning, and Michonne was helping Carol through it. They had grown closer with her pregnancy, and Carol was grateful to have Michonne here with her. Rosita as well. They were the only two she could count on with this, the only two she had put at risk with this, and she didn't regret that. She and Michonne were practically bonded for life now._

" _One more push, Carol," Dr. S said._

" _One more push." Michonne held her hand. "Just one."_

 _Squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her jaw, Carol gave one big, final push, and her little girl was born. Dr. S let out a joyful chuckle at the sight of the baby, as he always had, and Michonne tightened her grip on Carol's hand._

" _Here she is. Your little girl." He walked toward Carol. "She's beautiful."_

 _Carol turned her head away from her daughter and shook her head, eyes closed, unable to speak._

" _Carol..." She shook her head again, the baby's cries tearing into her, and he sighed. "You can change your mind."_

 _"No. No."_

" _Just go," Michonne commanded him. "You can see she doesn't want to hold the child, so just go. Please."_

 _When the baby was gone, Carol broke down, and Michonne comforted her. She had never thought that bastard would hurt her so much, but he had proved her wrong. Because of him and his invisible shadow, she couldn't even keep her own child. A child she had spent the last nine months with, reading to her, sharing stories of her past with her, hoping she could hear her voice and remember her in some way. She knew it would be dangerous for her child to be able to recognize her voice but she still hoped she did. She wanted her daughter to know she loved her so much that she was willing to keep this from a man who was practically her brother and to tear her heart apart to keep her safe._

 _She knew it would be hard. She had lost Sam, and yet somehow this pain was worse. Sam was her baby boy, and she would never forget him or their time together. She had so many memories of him, but she would have none with her daughter. She wouldn't know anything about her. She wasn't going to know what she looked like or what she sounded like. She wouldn't even know her name. That was worse than anything. That asshole had managed to steal not just one child but two. She was going to make him pay for this._

 _Michonne rubbed her arm, knowing her words and shushing meant little so she stayed quite, and she was just there for Carol._

" _My baby..." Carol softly wheezed. "My daughter."_

 _Rosita could hear Carol's sobs from outside her room, could hear her calling for her child, and she clenched her jaw. She could do one thing for Carol. It was the only thing she could do at this point. She hurried out of the hospital to make a phone call._

" _My baby girl." Carol sobbed._

– – –

 _It had been two weeks since the birth of Carol's daughter, and the depression had settled in shortly after birth. She was exhausted from the medication she had been on, but her dosage had been tweaked, and she would return to work soon. She was grateful for that. She needed to get back into the swing of things. She missed her friends. Her family._

 _Caesar had stopped by with lunch, but she wasn't hungry. She hadn't been eating much, mostly broths, and she could see his worry. He had been told that Carol had been shot during her "undercover work" and was recovering. He didn't ask about it, and she was glad. She would be happy to see him again—along with everybody else at the precinct._

" _Knock, knock." Rosita smiled in on her._

" _Hey." She smiled back. "I was just thinking about you."_

" _Me too." She climbed onto the bed. "I brought you my grandmother's potato soup, which is the best, and you'll be happier after you eat it."_

" _Thanks. I would have thrown the broth at your face."_

" _I figured." She reached into her purse and pulled out a small box. "I also brought you this."_

" _You got me a gift?"_

" _Yeah. Open it."_

 _She accepted the box and peeled off the blue wrapping paper. She removed the lid and found a gold locket inside. "Rosita..."_

" _Go on."_

 _She lifted it up and out of the box, feeling an engravement on the back, and she turned it over, reading it: I hold you in my heart forever, my darlings. She opened it and found the baby pictures of Sam inside. "It's beautiful, Rosita, but...there's a mistake."_

" _No, there's not." She grinned and pointed to the left picture. "This is your baby girl, Carol."_

 _She stared at the picture. "This—is my daughter?"_

" _Yeah. I—I got a picture of her before I left the hospital."_

" _She looks just like my baby pictures."_

" _So did Sam, only he has some Rick in there too." Her smile softened at the expression on Carol's face. "Now she's with you every day."_

" _Thank you, Rosita."_

" _You're welcome." She hugged her for a moment then swung off the bed. "I'm going to go get your dinner. I'll be right back."_

 _Carol's eyes fell to her baby girl who was beautiful like Dr. S had said. She had pale skin and the same light eyes. She might even have the same red hair. God, she was so precious. Carol held the locket up to her lips. If she could turn back time, she would have kissed her forehead, just once as goodbye, as I love you, as I will always protect you, as you are my everything. This would have to do._

 _Her darlings. They were her heart._


	18. The First Time

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

 _Carol looked down at the articles of Sam and Rick's deaths and their obituaries, and she sighed softly and rose off the couch. She ran her fingers over the books on the shelf, finding the most recent photo album she had purchased. She had bought it for the pictures for her and Sam's trip. That trip wasn't going to happen, and she had no use for this album. Well, she did now._

 _She removed it and set it on the coffee table, exhaling softly and pulled back the plastic cover, placing the two obituaries on the page, smoothing over the plastic and trying to smoothed out the air bubbles. She set her hand over the picture of her little boy and her lips quivered. Reaching up and tracing the engraving on her locket, she steadied herself. Not one more. She wasn't sure if she could keep that promise, but she was going to try her damnedest. Not one more. She would break herself to ensure not one more._

––

She lowered her hand from her locket and rested her head on cool metal wall, eyes closed. She had calmed down after the news, but she felt like she was being torn apart. She had to keep her head, now more than ever. A child's life was on the line, and it was _her_ blood child. She wouldn't let anything happen to her baby. And when Sophia was safe, she was going to find out who the hell gave her to her biological father. And she might just have to kill them. The only three people who knew she was pregnant that could have told were Michonne, Rosita and Dr. S. Michonne wouldn't tell a soul. She knew that. Rosita...would have no reason to tell. None that Carol knew of, anyway. So that left Dr. S. He was a good man, but he might be swayed by money. Some people tend to forget their loyalties when money's waved in their faces. She would talk to him when this was over. Who knows, maybe she didn't know Rosita as well as she thought she did.

Daryl gazed at the door, his eyes glued to the gray metal, unable to look at the woman across from him. He felt like he'd been tossed into a tub of ice cold water. He didn't know what the hell to expect now. He didn't know what to say to her, and he didn't know how to this was going to end. What were they going to do now? Carol wasn't going to just walk away from her child. Actually, she just might. She walked away from her once. But maybe she regretted it. Maybe that's why she always looked so hard for kidnapped children. She was trying to make up for a mistake she made ten years ago. Maybe. It wasn't like he knew her at all. And what he knew of her was hazy and years old; she's changed, and he could both see and feel it. He didn't know her after all these years, and he shouldn't claim to know her past either.

The door opened, they were met with two armed men, and the first gun was aimed at Daryl's head. Daryl wanted to rush them, but he wouldn't risk getting shot or Carol getting shot. He could only watch as they grabbed Carol by her arms, hauling her up and out of the room. She didn't struggle, and it sent a chill down his spine. It was like she was broken. He didn't know her well, but she was a fighter. She and Sophia had that trait. So why the hell was she playing the rag doll? Did she have a plan, or...did she no longer care? Damn, he wished he had spoken to her now.

"Where are you taking her?" Daryl demanded as the door began to close, and he ran to it, slamming his hand on the door. "Where the hell are you taking her?! Hey!"

"Don't worry. I have plans for you too," Phillip remarked from the other side of the door.

"You hurt her, and I—will—kill—you!" he growled.

He chuckled. "By the time I'm done with her and your little girl, you won't have the spirit to be doing much of anything."

"You son of a bitch!" He slammed his hand on the door. "I'll kill you! I swear to God, I'll kill you!"

"We'll see." He walked away from the door and started down the hall, Andrew falling into step beside him. "Get the little girl, throw her in with her mother. I have no need of her."

"Yes, sir." He smirked and strolled back down the hall to get the girl.

– – –

Carol let them take her from the room without a fight, and she inspected the hall she was roughly guided through. She could see they weren't going to get out of here easily. They had no weapons, and they couldn't make anything either. There was nothing to make any weapons from, and they didn't have anything on them either. This was a different, metal kind of hell. She wished now that other asshole was still their captor. He was incompetent as hell, and escaping was a second time would be like taking candy from a baby. There was no escaping here. Well, at least not all of them. Getting Sophia out was...possible, but both Daryl and Carol? They'd have to be distractions. They'd have to fend off the men who went for Sophia, and they'd likely die. They'd die getting her out of here. That wasn't an option. Her child would not grow up like her. No, they would all get out. She simply needed to come up with a plan.

One of the men released her arm, he opened the door, and Carol turned her eyes away as sunlight shined in. She was shoved outside, and now she struggled. She had a feeling that this was her final stop, and that was _not_ going to happen. She heard a clicking and felt the tip of the gun on her neck, and she stopped fighting instantly at the sound.

"In." He gestured to the back of a truck. "Now."

She climbed inside, being as compliant as she could, hands up to show she wasn't going to try anything.

"To the back," he ordered.

She stopped once she was at the back of the truck and exhaled, frowning at the sound of someone else struggling behind her. She tried to turn around, but she was commanded not to. She could hear them climbing inside, and there was a confrontation of a sort. She could hear groaning and kicking, and it was from a female. Carol grew tense as she realized it was coming from her daughter. They were the only two female captives here after all.

The door was slammed shut, Carol spun around straightaway at her realization and saw the young girl coming to a halt as the door closed. Lights flickered on inside the truck, Sophia had her back to Carol, smacking her small hands on the door once. She wore an over-sized gray hoodie or jacket and jeans that made her look even skinnier than she was. Her red hair was messy from being hauled around like a doll.

The girl groaned under her breath and whirled around to look at her new cell.

Carol swallowed hard as the little girl began to turn. She was beautiful. She looked evenly like Daryl and Carol, and her features were so soft. She likely got freckles when out in the sun too long. She was as precious as she was in the picture Carol had of her as a newborn. And she was right in front of Carol, and it wasn't a picture; it was flesh and blood. Sophia, her daughter, was here, and Carol was here. This wasn't a dream. She was going to hear her daughter's voice for the first time. They were going to speak to each other for the first time.

Carol's eyes lingered on the child's face, her attention caught by the bruises in the shape of a hand-print over her mouth. What the hell happened to her? What did those bastards do to her little girl? They were going to pay for that. Nobody was going to bruise her daughter. Nobody.

Sophia looked over the woman in front of her. She was rather skinny, and she had pretty white hairs that kinda of curls at the tips and dark roots, and her eyes were so beautiful. They were blue and kind, like a mother's gaze. Or something. She wouldn't know. The woman was beautiful and familiar, even with the busted cheek and everything. It dawned on her then. She'd seen her picture once before. "You're her."

"Excuse me?" Carol could hear the confusion in her voice.

"You're the lady my dad keeps a picture of." She looked over her bruised face and swallowed hard. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?"

She nodded. "Just a little bruised up. How is my dad?" She stepped toward the woman, oddly trusting her, sensing she was good. It was a gut feeling. "Is he okay?"

"He is." She wanted to move closer, but she didn't dare. "I promise."

She nodded and tears filled her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand and collapsed, and Carol went to her side, but the girl was smiling. "Oh, thank God. I was so scared for him."

"He's tough, Sophia. I know he'll get himself and you out of this."

"He told you my name? You must be really important to him." She sniffed. "What's your name?"

"Carol." She reached over and wiped away a tear, and the young girl didn't flinch away like she should have. Carol was a stranger, after all. The girl didn't know who she really was, and Carol wasn't ever going to tell her. She couldn't. "Carol Williams."

"It's pretty. Your name."

"Yours too."

She smiled a little and wiped the tears away, and Carol saw the bruises on her wrists. Sophia caught Carol watching, and she snuffled. "One of his men...pinned me to the bed and..."

Carol's heart stopped. God, please, no. "A—and?"

"Phillip fired a gun and...got him off me." She met her eyes. "Don't tell my dad." He would kill that guy, and she didn't want that. She just wanted to go home with him at this point. She wanted to forget this ever happened and return to how things were before.

"I promise." She couldn't take her eyes off the little girl. She had seen her pictures, but now she knew who she really was. A piece of Carol's heart that had been thrown into the world with only ties to her father. Thrown into a cruel world that almost ripped her of something so precious. This was what she wanted to avoid. This is why she put the child up for adoption. She wanted her to have a better life. A safer life. Now she was in the back of a truck with someone she saw as a "kind stranger", and God only knows what the hell else would happen to them in here. Or what was happening to Daryl even. Christ.

"Let's try to find a way out of here," Carol suggested, rising.

"Okay. That's a good idea."

They looked over the truck, Sophia knew trying the door was as pointless as anything, and Carol narrowed her eyes at the back of the truck. This wasn't just any old truck; it was _refrigerated_ truck. Meaning at any given time Phillip could crank up the air and freeze them to death. At Sophia's weight and how she was dressed, it wouldn't take long. The same applied to herself as well. Shit.

"So, what happened to you?" She was staring with wide eyes at the blood on Carol's shirt.

"It's not mine. Well, not all of it." She rubbed her hands together. "Your dad was shot, but it's...been dealt with. He'll be fine."

"Did you help him?"

"Yeah, as best I could."

"So, you're like a doctor?" She stopped investigating the truck. "Or a nurse, maybe?"

"No, I'm a cop."

"Oh. That makes more sense." She picked at the sleeve to her hoodie. "Is help coming? Backup? Or...anything?"

"Uh, no. I won't lie to you. I came in to this alone. Your father's men may come and help us, but I can't say for sure."

"At least you're honest." She pressed her lips together and her eyes went misty. "I just want to go home with my dad." She sank down onto the floor and hugged her legs. She wanted to be brave, and she wanted to find a way out, but there wasn't one. And honestly Carol seemed brave enough for the both of them right now.

"I know. And I hope you do."

She wiped her sleeve under her nose. "Do you have anybody you wanna get home to?"

"Yeah." Carol sat beside her. "My family."

"You have a husband? And kids?"

"No, no husband, no kids. I do have a brother and a sister-in-law and a goddaughter." A godson too, and soon Mika. For someone who didn't want kids in her life, she sure had a lot of ties to kids.

"Oh, well that's just as good."

A beat.

"I wish I had a godmother," the girl murmured to herself, "or even a mother."

"You don't?"

She blushed a little, not expecting the woman to have heard her. "Um, no. Not really. Dad has plans. Lots of plans, but he's never mentioned a godmom to me."

"Not your birth mother either?"

"She's supposedly dead." Sophia lifted her head. "He always says that when he mentions her. I hate how he talks about her. Like...she's scum. He doesn't know what her life's been like, you know? I love my dad, don't get me wrong, but who is he to judge anybody? I mean, if he and my mom knew each other at all, I'd at least have a first name."

Carol smiled to herself. "You're a smart kid."

"Thanks. Dad says I must get it from my mom."

"I'm sure you do." Carol noted how sad Sophia looked. "Do you know anything about her?"

She shook her head then stopped. "Well, I have something _of_ hers."

"What?" Carol frowned. Daryl stole from her? Or did he buy something and pretend it was Carol's?

She moved the hair back from her ears to reveal gold ball earrings. "These were hers. She left them in his car. Dad let me pierce my ears when I turned ten, and I haven't taken them out since."

Those were Carol's. She'd been looking for those damn things for years! She thought Andrea borrow and lost them, or Caesar took them as an anniversary gift because he forgot due to work or couldn't make it out to go shopping in time. That was one mystery solved.

"They're cute."

"They make me feel like my mom's with me. It's silly, but I don't care. They're...kinda like my security blanket. I'd feel...really naked and alone without 'em."

"That's how I feel about my locket." Carol showed her it. "I've worn this every day for the last ten years."

"Is there anything inside?" She peered up at Carol.

"No. It was a gift from a dear friend, and I just...like to have it with me."

She nodded.

Carol's nose scrunched as her words played once more in her head. Wait, a dear friend managed to get a good shot of her daughter through glass at the hospital? Oh, Christ. It _was_ Rosita. She was the mole. She was the rat that told Daryl about Sophia. It wasn't Axel. It was just _her_. Daryl likely said Axel to protect Rosita. That's why she was so pushy that day, and why she involved herself in Carol's pregnancy as much as she had. Wow, that's...not what Carol was expecting. Rosita...betrayed Carol? For Daryl? Why would she do that? She knew how important Sophia being adopted out was to Carol. She knew what Carol went through with Sam and giving up Sophia, so why would she do this? Was she faking her concern all these years? Was she just there to keep eyes off Daryl? Was that her only goal? Did she not realize how dangerous it was to allow Sophia to be raised by a goddamn drug lord? Did she not see the millions of ways that could have gotten her killed? Or worse? Rosita was an intelligent woman, and she must have gone over every angle of this. Why would she agree to it? Carol had explained it straight to her the day she confirmed Rosita's suspicions about her pregnancy, and she just lied and kidnapped her child from the family she was meant to go to. Lovely.

Sophia had made it ten years without anything too scarring happening to her, and while that was amazing, it wasn't good enough. She shouldn't be with Daryl. She shouldn't be with Carol. She would be in a home with no blood relation where she could be safe from the vampires that hunted Carol and the assholes who lurked behind Daryl. The Archer and the "Queen" had powerful enemies, and it was selfish of Daryl to take her. He knew what he was becoming, and he knew just how dirty the people around him played, so why would he be so careless? She was a person, not a pet, and he only thought of himself. Carol was no angel, but she would never put her child in harm's way if she could avoid it. God, why did this happen? Was ten her cursed number? God, and it was so close to Sam's birthday too. This was the cruelest thing the world has ever done to her.

"What was that?" Sophia's head snapped to the side.

"What was what?" Carol tuned back in.

"I heard a click." She stood up. "Do you feel that? Look!"

Carol shot up. "Oh no, they turned the truck on!"

"What does that mean?"

"They're going to try and freeze us to death," Carol answered. "And of course they'll be successful."

"No." She ran to the doors and pounded on them. "Somebody help! Somebody, please!"

"It's no use. Nobody will hear us." Carol scanned the truck.

"Well, we have to do something!" Sophia exclaimed.

"I'm looking!" Carol retorted. "Help me!"

"With what? I'm ten! I don't know what the heck any of that is! Or what I should be looking for!"

Carol sighed and scanned the back, trying to find some way to block the vent or shut it off. After a painstakingly fruitless inspection, she found there was nothing she could do to stop this, or even slow it down. She did find a thermometer, and it was getting really cold, really fast. Carol could possibly manage to survive hours in here, but Sophia? She wasn't so lucky.

"Carol?" Her voice was shaky and low and full of terror.

She gazed helplessly at the vent that blew out icy air. God, please don't let this be happening.

"Carol?" Sophia stepped toward her. "Are...are we...gonna die in here?"

"Come here." Carol held her arms out, and the young girl embraced her. "Shh. Shh. I'm here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I swear. I'll keep you safe." She held her closer, and she could feel Sophia's nails digging into her back. She smoothed her hair down and prayed for a miracle. "I'll keep you safe."


	19. Clock Is Ticking

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Daryl paced the room, rubbing his jaw and leering at the door, willing it to open so he could find that son of a bitch and kill him. He would find the girls and take them home. He would do that if it was the last thing he did. Nobody was going to hurt them, and if they did, he would make them regret it. He had come too far to let anybody die today. He just had to get the fuck out of this room. He would get a chance.

"Nervous, Archer?" Phillip called through the door.

He stormed over to the door and slammed his hands on the cold metal. "Fuck you! Where are they? What did you do to them?"

"That's up to you."

"What?"

"I want answers, and you're the only one who can give them to me. If you're not honest, I will make an exception to my rule and I will kill your child and her mother."

"Don't you fucking dare!" Daryl slammed on the door. "Leave them out of this! They have nothin' to do with this!"

"They have _everything_ to do with this," Phillip snarled. "If I were you, Archer, I'd watch what I said. I'm not a good mood, and I haven't been in a good mood for the last five years."

"I'm not responsible for your bad mood," Daryl hissed. "And just how are they involved? Carol doesn't mess with you, and Sophia's a little girl!"

"You involved them when you killed my wife and child, Archer. And you will pay for that."

"I—what?"

"I'll let you sit on that for moment. I want to hear in your own words that you killed them, and I might be willing to let them go."

"That's what you want?"

"And your business."

"I can only give you one."

"Let's hope by the time I return, you've changed your mind. It's getting cold in there."

"Cold in where?" Daryl demanded, but all he could hear was Phillip walking away. "Cold in where?!"

– – –

"What's going on?" Andrea avoided the people rushing around her, and she looked for Caesar among the group of people. She could see he was in the middle of an important meeting, so she held Keira close and moved out of the way of basically the entire precinct. She hoped this meant they had found Carol. She hadn't been gone long, but Caesar had. Perhaps he and Rosita had come up with a plan. Or they found something that could lead them to Carol.

"We have to a missing child and officer, and now we have a dead man in a bar." Michonne's dark eyes seemed to grow darker, and there was a chill in the room. "And it's him."

Caesar balled his fists at the mention of that godless son of a bitch sniper. "You sure?"

"Yes. The odd thing is we have witnesses who tell us two men were fighting, but the sniper only killed the one. No one can positively I.D. the second man, not even the owner."

"He paid them off?"

"Perhaps. Don't worry about this. Connected or not, I have Shepard and Monroe looking into it."

"I can locate him. I know I can," Rosita insisted. "This could be our one chance to take this asshole down. Michonne—Captain, please."

"It's Carol and a little girl's life on the line," Caesar reminded her. "And I trust that Espinosa's lead is accurate. She's rarely let us down in the past. You know this could be right. You have to."

Michonne nodded. "Go, Espinosa. And we'll talk once after."

"Thank you, ma'am." She rushed out of the room and to her laptop, not wasting a second.

Caesar saw Andrea and Keira, and he was about to leave when Michonne said his name. "Ma'am?"

"Minding telling me how you and Espinosa got this lead?"

"I think we should focus on the task on hand," Caesar stalled. "Rosita is the best we have, and she'll be done shortly. If you'll excuse me, ma'am, I need to talk to Andrea and Keira and tell them to go home."

She exhaled. "We'll talk after, Martinez."

He gave a nod and left her office, going to his wife and child, and he led them to the door. He hastily explained what was going on and what would be doing down in a few minutes when Espinosa finished hacking into the Governor's database. They had been by the estate briefly, and she had planted a little surprise that she was now releasing it. It would buy them the time they needed. She just hoped this wasn't the last time.

"Caesar, I know," Andrea whispered.

"Know...what?" He searched her eyes, not sure what she meant. Lately, it could mean a lot of things.

"Caesar." She didn't look at Rosita, because she had seen how Michonne was looking at her. She hoped he could just see it, or just know like he did sometimes. With all that's going on, she might have to spell it out. His mind was clogged with other things. "I know."

He dropped his gaze. "Oh."

"Are you all right?"

"I will be. Look, here. Take this spare key to Carol's and stay there till I call you." He held out the worn panda heart keychain that Rick had given Carol so many years that held the key and a second keychain that Sam had picked out. It was a keyblade, something from one of his favorite games. Rick had given these to Caesar only hours before he was killed. He wanted Caesar to keep an eye on Carol since he and Lori were moving out of the city. If only they'd had the chance. Well, at least there were happy memories that drowned out the mourning in that house.

She took the keys from him and locked eyes with him. "You'd better call soon."

"I will." He bent down to be at his daughter's eye level. "I'll see you soon, okay? Take care of Mom for me."

She hugged her dad tightly. "I promise."

"That's my girl." He kissed her temple and released her, brushing a hand over her cheek with a small smile. He rose and embraced Andrea. "I'll bring Carol back."

"I know." She pulled back. "We should go. Rosita looks about done. We'll see you at Carol's."

He kissed her. "Be safe."

They parted ways, Caesar watched them leave the station, and he exhaled, turning to Rosita, who gave him a nod. It was time to bring Carol home and save a little girl's life. Tomorrow he and Carol would get drinking coffee and ignoring the fact that she was kidnapped and held hostage by the Governor and Archer. Rather the Archer then the Governor. Damn, did she owe him a really nice birthday present for all this stress. God, his first gray hair would be named Carol Williams.

––

"Y'all are moving in?" Merle qustioned, eyes on the property Gareth had visited quite often.

"Yes. Where are you?"

"You know exactly where I am."

"No. No, you cannot be there!"

"I'm not leaving my brother in the hands of the NYPD."

"Merle, listen to me. If you are there when we arrive, I can't protect you. Daryl doesn't want you dragged into this, and if you are...there's nothing I can do for you without incriminating myself. The Captain already seems suspicious of me."

"I know. I don't need you to protect me. As far as I'm concerned, our business is done."

"Merle—"

"You're free. No strings attached. All you have to do is get my brother and my niece out of this together. She needs him, and he needs her. He'll do whatever it takes to get her away from all this. Help them do that. I know how you feel about the kid, and I know you'll do right by her."

"They need you too, Merle."

"Just do that for me."

"Just wait—"

"Goodbye, hacker." He tossed his phone onto the ground and slammed the heel of his boot in to. He stepped back toward the car and picked up the 37 mil grenade launcher, a little gift from an old friend. Daryl never did use his toys properly. He was going to show the Governor exactly what kidnapping his family has earned him, and then he was going to kill him for all he did to his men. If he had to take the fall, it was rightly his to claim. And for them, he would claim it with immense pleasure, because he would ensure the Governor was right there beside him to claim his.

– – –

He was waiting in his office for him, back to the wall, his precious DTA stealth recon scout on his back, and he looked bored. He always looked bored, especially when he wasn't mowing people down for the Governor. Give the man new toys and plenty of ammo and you own him for life.

"Is the job done?" was all Phillip commanded.

"He is dead."

"Good. Your payment was transfered into your account."

He nodded. "How's it going here?"

"Slow."

"Slow? With the Archer? Or...someone else?"

He waved that question away. "I need to give him time. He'll understand what it feels like, and I'll make sure he feels it for the rest of the time he has left." He sat. "You're dismissed."

"I saw the girl," the sniper commented. "You said you don't kill children yet you had her placed in the refrigerated truck. Why?"

"The only way I can make this bastard pay is by doing what he did to me. Two lives for Penny and Elizabeth."

The sniper wondered briefly if the mother of the child was Carol Williams. He had watched her often over the past few years, and he hadn't noticed a pregnancy. Her weight had gone up and down several times, but he would have noticed if that was from carrying a child. She was a small woman, and a baby bump would have been like a neon sign on her stomach. It wasn't possible. So where the hell was Williams? And how was she involved in this?

"Leave," Phillip demanded. "I need to be alone. Speak to Andrew. He may have something for you to do."

The sniper left the office, but he didn't go see that sniveling kiss ass. He lurked the building, trying to hear or see anything that might tell him why an agent of the NYPD had been brought into this building. Phillip would have told him if he had Williams. The police hadn't caught up to them, and Phillip went to great lengths to ensure they never did. So why in the hell was she here? Where was she? He had to find her. After all this time, for her to die here by unworthy men would be such a waste. It was him, or it was nobody.

He found himself in the armory, and his eyes fell on an old beauty he hadn't forgotten about; he had yet to find a kill as good as the last one. Well, it wasn't the kill that was good so much as what came after. It would be perfect. The child was already fated to die by freezing, so he was going against Phillip's plans for the child. He had already lied about the job he had performed, and Phillip had kept him from Williams long enough. He was going to find Williams, and he was going to kill her, if she didn't out maneuver him. She had managed to get this far, and if she was the woman he knew she was, she would get a hell of a lot further. He couldn't wait to gun her down with the same rifle he'd used on her beloved son and his father.

– – –

Phillip gazed at his watch and rose from his chair, heading to the cell to speak with Daryl. His girls had been in the truck for either over two hours or an hour. He wasn't really sure. He didn't keep track of the time since they were going to die in there either way. They were likely past shudders and rubbing their arms to keep warm. They likely weren't moving much, and he wouldn't let them die just yet. He needed them alive if he was going get what he wanted. Well, as alive as, say, the cold embrace of death being only a few breathes away. And now felt like the right time. They were nearing the edge. He wasn't good at sensing things, but the time where someone's life was coming to a close, his sense of that was never wrong.

He could hear the pounding the Archer was making in his cell as he ambled down the hall, leaning against the wall just outside, listening to him. He found it rather amusing. You'd think he'd understand that he'd need his strength later on. Instead he was burning himself out trying to escape an inescapable room. It was similar to a panic room, only the lock was on Phillip's side of the door. He had designed these rooms just for things like this. If Daryl was worth a damn, he'd have gotten Phillip when he was still drunk and mourning and let him die inside a room like this.

Yet he didn't. He didn't care how Phillip would retaliate. He didn't care what would happen to his child, as he blatantly showed her off. He knew the risks and he didn't take precautions. He didn't assign a bodyguard to her, he didn't teach her how to properly defend herself. He didn't even give the child an understanding of the world she was growing up in. She was defenseless little worm, and it was only a matter of time before she was crushed under someone's shoe. At least she will die nestled in the arms of a woman who loved her enough to try and save her. He admired the selfless bitch for that, but that wasn't enough to spare her. No. They both would die tonight. Why should Daryl get to live and watch his child grow and learn and follow her passion and marry and create new life while he can't with his daughter? Blood for blood.

"Are you done yet?" Phillip rubbed his temple. "You've given me a headache."

"I'll give you a hell of a lot more when I get out here," Daryl shot back from the other side of the door. "Where is my daughter? What did you do with Carol? Where the hell are they?!"

"You waste a lot of time. We could be talking, but you just want to threaten me." His voice tightened. "And ask the wrong fucking questions. You shouldn't be asking questions at all. I told you what you had to do for their freedom." And by freedom, he meant death. Death and power were the only true freedoms in this world. He had the power, and they would greet death.

"I didn't touch them!"

"Archer, your child and...whatever the hell Carol is to you don't have much time left. I'd stop procrastinating. Help isn't coming. It's just you and me, and at this rate you'll starve to death, and I'll still be the last face you see and the last voice you hear."

"Listen to me, you piece of shit, _I did not kill_ your wife and child! I have never killed anybody!"

"That's unavoidable in our line of business. I know everything about you, Daryl. You _have_ killed."

"You don't know shit about me."

"I know you were orphaned after your parents died. You were born in Georgia in a shack of a house to two alcoholics assholes; one who was abusive and the other who was...a dumb broad who burned herself down to nothing after getting so drunk she dropped the lit cigarette she'd been smoking. You and your brother drifted here when he was kicked out of the military, and I know you were chosen by that Russian son of a bitch when you were in rags on the street."

"How the hell—?"

"My men are better than yours," he cut him off. "Rosita's good, but Eric is better. And he does his best work when under pressure."

"Under pressure meaning?" Daryl's heart began to race at the tone in Phillip's voice.

"I have his boyfriend in the cell right next to this one. He's not looking too good. See, Eric held back on your little baby mama drama for the longest time, so I had to bloody Aaron up a bit. He's strong, but he'll bleed out eventually. And I'll have to replace Eric then. Maybe Rosita will be interested, and I've already wounded Abe so it wouldn't be too hard to capture them.

"You bastard. _These are people's lives!_ You can't do that!"

"You're one to talk about people's lives," Phillip snapped. "Do you know what it was like for me that day? I was supposed to have the car. I was the one that bomb was meant for, but Penny and Elizabeth..." He steadied himself. "I made a promise that I'd keep them safe. I promised Penny that I'd always be there to protect her from everything. See, I had done the smart thing. They were always guarded, even if they weren't aware of the guards. They were in the best hands at all times. Nobody ever got to them...until you."

Daryl set his forehead against the metal door, seeing the story Phillip was telling in his mind, and he didn't want it. He didn't want to think about. He didn't want to know a mother and child had been killed. He didn't want his child and her mother to experience the same, only with ice and not fire. Daryl had worked it out while he was in here. It made sense. Their deaths wouldn't instantaneous; it would be like falling asleep. They might not even know what was happening. Or perhaps they would know. Perhaps Carol was holding onto their dead daughter seconds before her own heart stopped beating.

Daryl felt helpless. He was still that lost little boy following Merle around place to place, trying to survive by playing a part that was never him. He couldn't do anything. He was trapped in a steel room from hell while two of the most important people in his life were just out of his reach. He had no idea what Merle was doing, but that son of a bitch was probably blowing shit up and risking his life to get them back. Meanwhile Sophia was being frozen to death along with Carol. They were in that goddamn truck he'd brought them here with, dying together, and he couldn't save them. He never could save anybody. Why didn't he just realize that?

"She was fourteen years old. She was a freshmen. It was her first day of high school, and she was so excited. She had spent the morning trying on every new outfit Elizabeth had bought her the week before, and they were running late because of that. I told them to just take my car, and when Elizabeth started the car, the bomb was triggered. I watched them die before my eyes." He inhaled deeply, glossy eyes at the ceiling. "I didn't run toward them. I just stared. I couldn't look away, not even when they pulled their blackened bodies out. I couldn't even recognize them. My own wife and child.

"And the funny thing is... _I_ was running late that day. I had set my alarm for six, because I had a meeting at seven and a shipment to check on. So if I had woken up when I was meant to, this never would have happened. My driver would be dead, because I would have sent him to warm up the car, and they would be alive right now. None of this would be happening, but I overslept...and they died...and it is."

With tears burning in his eyes, Daryl clenched his jaw. He couldn't imagine that happening to Sophia. He couldn't imagine it happening to any of his men. Phillip would have been pleased had his driver taken the hit. How could he be so careless about human lives? Daryl never understood that. He wouldn't kill someone unless they gave him no choice, and even then it would weigh on him. He had never taken a life, and he would try to never take a life, but it would appear Phillip wasn't giving him a choice. He could make peace with that, but he couldn't have this self-righteous bastard thinking he was killing Carol and Sophia for the right reasons. They were no right reasons, and Daryl did not murder his wife and child. He had many skills, but building bombs was not one of them.

"Would you care to know a secret?" Phillip inquired, plucking a knife from the table beside him. "Your little girl was going to a home that had one other little girl, a good father and mother. She would have had a big sister. Enid, I believe was her name. She could have played dress up and wrestled in the mud with Enid. She could have had the best friend she'd ever make in her entire life in the next room over. She could have had a pool, a dog. The father just got promoted at work as well. She would have had a comfortable life. Sophia would have been safe and sound and loved. Carol truly picked well there."

He hit his head on the door and sucked in a shaky breath. He was torturing him, and it wasn't with his words. It wasn't with weapons. It was with the knowledge that he had Carol and Sophia locked in a refrigerated truck and the air blasting in on them wave after wave for the past however many hours. They were dying, and all he could do was stand here and listen to how much better her life would have been if he hadn't demanded his child be raised by him. He knew before Rosita came to him with her. Merle had told him while they were drinking one night—well, he mentioned someone was pregnant, and it was Daryl's. He was slurring pretty bad, and he didn't remember the next day. Daryl's first instincts were to step the hell back, but he couldn't. Christ, he was so fixated on the fact that he had a child that he didn't even try to find out who the mother was. He blinded by anger at her decision, and Rosita made it clear she would never allow him to find the woman. He had assumed it was for his own good, but it was for Carol's. Carol would have skewered them both.

He fell to his knees. Carol did know best. Sophia could have had a dog and a sister and lived comfortably. She was dying because of him. Because he wanted to be a good man and a good father. He had been selfish. To be a good parent you have do what's best for the child, and what was best for Sophia was not growing up with him. He couldn't turn the clock back, but God if he could, he would. He loved his daughter, and while it destroyed him to think these thoughts, her life would have been so much better if she had been adopted. She would be happy, not ten and dying. Because of...what? Some asshole decided Daryl was going to pay for a crime he didn't commit.

He lifted his head as the door opened and Phillip entered, smirking at him. He had no weapons on him, just a phone, and that was all he needed. He nodded to someone outside the door as it closed. Daryl glowered at him behind tear-filled eyes, and Phillip looked so contented. He thought he'd won, that he had broken Daryl, and by how Daryl looked—the red face, the empty eyes, the tears and the way he was holding himself—it appeared he had. The catch was Daryl had been broken so many times before that he knew how to break himself. He knew how to repair himself as well. Phillip just made a grave mistake, and he would regret everything he did.

"Would you like to hear her last words? I think they were "I love you"."

Daryl didn't speak, just released a few quiet, pain-filled breaths.

"I turned the truck off," Phillip informed Daryl. "The last thing Sophia will hear are the words you're about to speak. I'm not cruel enough to kill a child without giving her one wish, and I chose to let that wish be you saying goodbye."

Daryl narrowed his eyes as Phillip used the phone and dialed the number of some guard who name he didn't give a shit about. He then approached Daryl with the phone extended outward. Daryl just looked at him, and Phillip said, "Speak."

"Sophia?"

All that came through was a weak "hmm".

"That would her," Phillip told him.

"Sophia, sweetheart, I—I want you to know that...I'm coming for you, and you too, Carol. I just gotta deal with this asshole first, so you sit tight. I love you." He then lunged and tackled Phillip, the phone sliding across the room, and he punched him the face as hard as he could with the strength he had left.

– – –

Carol had tried to see if somehow they could get the door open, but there wasn't a chance in hell of that happening. She thought of a lot of ways to do it, but she didn't have anything on her, and there wasn't anything loose enough inside the truck to be useful. Well, she had a belt, and it was worthless. And all she could really do was listen as Sophia's shivers came closer and closer together. She had no coat to give the child, so all they could do now was sit and hold each other. Their combined body heat might prolong...the end.

It was so strange to think that thought. Death. Dead. Dying. She knew as a cop she had a shorter life expectancy than most. She had walked the thin line of life and death many times in the past, but she had backup and Caesar who would never let her down. She knew she had hope, no matter how grim the situation was. There was always a chance for things to get better. Not this time. She had no backup, no Caesar. She had no hope. There was nothing she could do here. Even if she had tools and time, it wouldn't matter. She would be met with armed guards. This was it. She had walked once more into the fray, and it was the last good fight she'd ever know. And she had lost it.

After all this time, there were only two fights that mattered, and she had lost both of them. She could fight and pound on the door until her hands and feet bled, but she would still lose. She was powerless, just like last time. She had looked over this truck a dozen times, and there was nothing she could do. The Governor had outplayed her, and she would die in here, with her daughter. At least this time she wouldn't live to regret it.

Sophia was curled up in Carol's lap, her head on Carol's shoulder, her hands tucked under her armpits, her eyes barely able to remain open, and she was quivering. She had never liked the cold. She had never experienced cold like this, and she was scared this was the last thing she'd ever know. She didn't want that to happen. She wanted to go home and be with her uncle and father. She wanted the cops to arrest Phillip and whoever else was a part of this. She didn't want to die here. But she was small and frail, and there wasn't much she could do to help Carol. She could only watch while Carol searched and kicked and pried. And now all she was doing was sucking the heat out of Carol.

"Sophia?" Carol had to focus to keep her teeth from chattering. "Tell me something."

"Mmm?"

"H—how do you like school? Are you go—good at anything subject in particular?"

She nodded. "I—I like English. I—I like the b—books we read."

"Oh?"

"Y—yeah. I love to r—read."

"I know. I saw your room."

"Oh." She shuddered. "Ca—Carol?"

"Yes?"

"Do you li—like to read?"

She nodded. "Very much."

"What ki—kinda books?"

"Mystery. Umm, h—horror. I—I like historical books too."

"I—I hate history. I—I have a tutor fo—for that sub—subject."

Carol smiled to herself. She was just like Sam. He hated history too. He didn't want to learn about the past, just the present and future, so he could try and make it better. He always wanted the best for everyone, even if it cost him.

"You said you were—were a cop?"

"I a—am."

"Tell me about...it. What's it li—like?"

"It's...unpredictable." She buried her face in the girl's hair, overly aware of her nose and ears. She wanted to shrink down to the size of _Mento_ and curl up in a glove. She couldn't feel her toes, and she was losing feeling in her calves. Sophia kept her thighs warm, but she wasn't sure how much longer Sophia's body heat would work. The temperature just kept dropping. "It's...exhilarating too."

"H—how do you me—mean?"

"T—to catch a killer, bring...justice to those l—lost. It's the best fe—feeling. It ma—makes my life...better, knowing I hel—helped put murderers away."

Sophia smiled a little. "That's re—really cool."

"You think?"

"Y—yeah. I—I think it'd be c—cool and sc—scary to be a c—cop. You—you're really br—brave."

"Tha—thank you."

She nuzzled closer to Carol. "I—I wish...I could ta—talk to my dad a—about you. I—I think he—he'd really lik—like you. As a p—person, I mea—mean."

"You—you will."

"Y—yeah." She sniffed. "I—it's silly, b—but I'm gl—glad it's y—you in he—here with m—me."

"That's n—not silly."

"It—it is, 'c—cause I w—wish you we—were my—my mom. You—you're so n—nice and—and prote—protective, like—like how a m—mom shou—should b—be."

She hugged Sophia closer and inhaled deeply, shuddering it out. She didn't know to say to that. She knew that she could easily tell Sophia she was her mother, but she couldn't even think the words. It wasn't the time. It may never be the time. She didn't want the last words Sophia heard be silence. So she talked. About her past, about her apartment, about how she used to know an amazing child named Sam that she reminded Carol of. She spoke of Lizzie and Mika and the good times she had with their parents. She spoke of the best on the job reunions she'd seen, and she knew Sophia was listening by the gentle noises she let out, and she'd laugh a little sometimes. She told Sophia things she'd never told Sam or Rick or Caesar. Things she wasn't even sure were real. Her parents, a vague memory that might have been a dream. A house that she may have grown up in. She wasn't sure if they were real or not, but she knew the cold was seeping inside of her, pulling down her eyelids, and she was positive that Sophia wasn't making much noise.

Sophia was tired. She could feel the exhaustion settling in, and it was wrong. It wasn't a light and natural exhaustion; it was black and twisted and permanent. It terrified her more than anything else that had happened since she had been kidnapped. She knew what it meant yet somehow it was more alarming to her that Carol had trailed off and hadn't picked back up. So Sophia began to speak. Her words were slurred a bit, and she had to make herself concentrate to speak, but Carol's eyes opened again, and she held Sophia tighter. It made tears burn in Sophia's eyes, but if they fell, they would freeze on her cheeks. She was so happy that Carol was responding to her voice. She didn't want to lose her. She didn't want to lose her dad, or herself, so she had to keep...on keeping on. She had to do something—anything—to stay alive, to keep Carol alive, and while it wasn't much, telling Carol of the last ten years of her life was all she had. It had to be enough. Dad was coming. Help was coming. Whether it was Uncle Merle or—or somebody she didn't know, help had to be coming. She just knew it. She had to know it, because she couldn't let herself think for one second on the possibility of this being all there was left.

"I—I love my mom," Sophia continued, her story having to be enough to keep them alive until one of the good guys opened that door. "And my—my dad and u—uncle. They—they're the best and—and brav—bravest people in—in the whole—whole world. I—I want you—to me—meet my un—uncle. He's—he's great."

"I—I know." Carol smiled at her. "I—I met h—him."

"O—oh." She peeked up at Carol through drooping eyes. "C—Carol?"

"Y—yes?"

"I—I have que—question."

"A—ask me any—anything."

"Why—why did yo—you ag—agree to lo—look for me—me?"

"B—Because I wou—would nev—never let a—a ch—child di—die. I—I vowed to bring—to bring you h—home. Alive. I ke—keep my v—vows."

She managed to smile. "Well, you—you found me—me, and Dad—Dad will get—get us out. I—I kn—know he wi—will."

"S—sure."

"He—he will."

Carol met her eyes. "S—Sophia?"

"H—he will," she firmly insisted. He's gotta.

"O—okay." She smoothed her thumb over Sophia's hair. "He—he'll come."

––

At some point maybe minutes or hours later the door to the truck opened, but they were far too weak to move. The man who climbed inside looked over them, a phone in one hand and a gun he wouldn't need in the other. He had shivered upon entering, but he was dressed properly for the cold. The black cold that spilled in the truck matched his empty eyes. The pair of them were pale and shivering. The woman was holding tightly to the child, and he knew she was trying to protect her, trying to keep her warm. He approached them and held the phone to the child's ear.

"Sophia?" It was Daryl.

Dad? Daddy? She could barely keep her eyes open, but she wanted him to know she was there, that he had to keep fighting, because sometimes Dad needed a push. He needed a good push right now. All she could manage was a soft, "Hmm."

"That would her." That voice was Phillip's.

Dad? She gazed at the phone. Please. Say something. Please, Daddy, be okay.

"Sophia, sweetheart, I—I want you to know that...I'm coming for you, and you too, Carol. I just gotta deal with this asshole first, so you sit tight. I love you." It was followed by a battle cry of a sort, a loud thud and choking.

The man immediately left at the sound and slammed the door shut, locking them in once more. Carol hugged her child close, and she thought it was funny. Not at all in a ha ha way, but as a cop, she assumed she'd take a bullet. And with a sniper after her, that only added to her death by bullet theory. She never thought she would freeze to death, and certainly not with her ten year old daughter in her arms. The universal had a sick sense of humor. God, please, just let Sophia make it out of this. Carol didn't mind dying if that meant Sophia would live. She had died thirteen years ago when Sam was shot, and she died more each day for the last ten years without her daughter, so what the hell did it matter? Sophia needed to live. Daryl...somebody...please just get here!

– – –

The building shook as the grenade exploded, making a sizable doorway for Merle to enter, and he encountered some of Phillip's lackeys. He didn't mind blood on his hands. They were all coldblooded killers anyway, and the world would be a better place without them. He was doing everybody a favor by wiping them out.

He ducked down behind a wall, hearing the men scrambling about, and he prepared himself. He didn't know exactly where Sophia and Daryl were being held, but he had an idea of where to look. He had seen a blueprint to this place. Rosita had found it once before it was built, and they assumed it was nothing, but fortunately for him that wasn't the case. He knew where Phillip had the cells built, and he'd head there first. He just had to make through these assholes first.

He peeked around the corner and saw the men running. He stepped out and fired at them, killing some and catching the attention of the ones who remained. He moved back to cover when they shot back. It would be a while before he got to Daryl. Asshole better be alive after all this.

––

Daryl had his hands wrapped tightly around Phillip's neck when the grenade exploded, and the building shook, causing Daryl lose his grip. The Governor used that slip to his advantage and slammed his foot into Daryl's face, knocking him to the ground.

Daryl tried to get to his feet before Phillip but wasn't successful. Daryl was met with several blows to the lower abdomen, and he cried out, trying to gather himself. He wasn't fast enough. He didn't have much strength, not after getting shot and not having any food or water for God only knows how long. Not that it mattered, Phillip had a lot of rage, and he wasn't going to let him escape this place alive. If he had to beat him to death then he would do just that.

He yanked Daryl up by the collar of his shirt and punched him in the face. He could feel the years of his bottled up rage releasing, coursing through his blood and fueling his every action. He had spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out who would attack him outright. It was a dangerous, dirty-handed move. It was something a coward would do. He didn't know anybody like that. They would all have hired thugs to find him alone and beat him to death, or they'd have hired a sniper. They would resort to poisoning his food or breaking into his office while he was working or catching him in his car. They would have made damn sure it was _him,_ not haphazardly tossing a bomb into his car and hoping it was him they murdered. That considerably narrowed his list, and the last three people left were easy pickings.

He hadn't considered Daryl. He knew the man had never spilled blood in his entire life. Well, not the life he had been molded into, so he didn't think he would be the one to do that. That's what made him the perfect killer. Phillip had never seen his style. He had never seen him fight, and they had never met before. Daryl was a peacekeeper type, so he thought he wouldn't be the one to do this. He knew nothing of the man, so he immediately swept him under the rug. That was his first and last mistake. Daryl was a stranger in this world, and while he was a shark, he proved to be toothless on many occasions. He wouldn't have blood on his hands, and if he didn't see Phillip die, he didn't do it. That's likely how he justified it. After all, a car exploding and killing a man would make the news, therefore he would hear his success.

"You son of a bitch." He slammed his foot into Daryl's gut with full force. He had gone over ever detail of that week, and the only thing out of the ordinary was that Daryl hadn't moved anything. It was a red flag that Phillip picked up on the second Daryl was a suspect. Daryl was too distracted with making a bomb to move goods, and what he learned about him only made it more clear he was the bomber. "She was fourteen years old! How could you go through with it? You have a daughter, and yet you risked mine with a car bomb! You goddamn coward!"

Daryl sputtered but couldn't speak. He could barely catch his breath. He didn't know if he was going to die here or not, but it wasn't looking good. He wasn't going down without a fight. He just needed one chance, one opening, and the tables would turn. All Phillip had was rage, and although it was scorching, it would burn out. Daryl had been saving his strength, and his time as a hostage was coming to an end. Growing up the way he had, he had what it took to survive a beating brought on by anger.

––

His body fell to the ground, his blood and brains splattered on the wall, and Merle moved on. He was trying to think of where he might find Sophia. He knew where to the cop and his brother were being held. He knew Phillip wouldn't kill a child, so he had fucking clue where the hell Sophia would be. She might be drugged up in his office until he was done with dealing with Daryl and Carol. He wasn't sure what he would do with Sophia, maybe keep her in a cell until she wasn't a kid anymore then kill her. Or try and brainwash her into thinking she's Penny. He wouldn't put it past him. Phillip was a sick son of a bitch, and if Sophia fit the profile then she was safe. If she didn't, Phillip might have broken his rule on not killing kids.

Sweeping through the halls with the his gun taking point, Merle took the long way to the cells. His 37 mil shook the building, and some of it was collapsing, therefore the short route wasn't safe. If he had used it only once that may not have happened. He knew his brother was tough, and if that pansyass died before Merle got to him, he would kick his ass. He had just better be alive. After all they'd been through...for this to take him...Merle would have burn this place to the motherfucking ground.

The cells were surprisingly empty—not a guard in sight. He saw a tray outside one of the rooms and the tools were bloody. He hurried to it then halted, hearing boots crunching on glass, and he turned as Andrew stumbled toward him. He was cradling one arm to his side, and it was broken by the angle and how much he was wincing. He had blood on his face and gravel in his chest wound. He was barely standing and holding a .45 at Merle, aimed for a head shot. He had came all this way just to kill him. Merle had come all this way to kill Phillip and whoever got his way. He wasn't going to stop for Andrew. He was a pussy, and he went with whoever had the darkest shadow and who was willing to keep his ass alive. He was the type to build bombs for anybody who asked. He was also the type to leave those bombs lying around for someone like Gareth to get his hands on. A bomb that caused the deaths of a mother and child. A man like that would not be the one to kill him.

"S—"

Merle shot him through the eye, not having time for his pleas or threats, and he opened the cell beside the tray, finding a man inside, coiled up in pain. It wasn't Daryl. He tried the next door and found Phillip bashing in Daryl's face with his foot. He tried to shoot him, but Phillip had moved out of the way, having expected him when he heard the gun fire and the other door being opened.

"Daryl?" Merle kept his gaze on Phillip.

He groaned.

"You'll both be dead soon," Phillip vowed.

"I think you're all talk," Merle decided.

Phillip lunged, and it was then that Daryl made his move. He locked his ankles around Phillip's and swept back, pulling him to the ground. Daryl scrambled to stand up, feeling a trembling deep in his bones, moisture on his shirt and across his lower belly, but he had to keep going. His moment had come. He had to get to the Sophia and Carol. He had no idea where they were, but he knew they were outside. In this maze of a place finding the outside might be a challenge. He liked challenges, and he was determined to get them out of here in one, living piece.

"Go." Merle handed him his gun. "I got him."

"Merle."

"Just go!"

Daryl could see there was point in arguing, and there was no time. He nodded to his brother, grateful, and he wouldn't waste this opportunity. He stumbled out of the room and saw Andrew's dead body down the hall. He glanced at the door where Merle and Phillip started to fight, and he turned, heading in the opposite direction.

"Hey," a weak voice called to him. "H—help me."

He stopped and saw a man on the floor in the next room. He approached him and looked over his wounds, seeing he was even more wounded than Daryl. This had to be Aaron, the man Phillip was taking about. The one who was supposed to be dead. He must be hanging on for Eric. "Hey, are you okay?"

"You're not...with the Governor?" Daryl shook his head. "Is...Eric okay? Do you...know?"

"He's okay. The Gov still needed him, so he's good."

He exhaled, and it was a sound that told Daryl it felt like the entire world had found peace to Aaron, simply knowing Eric was all right.

"Hey, you're gonna be just fine," Daryl promised. "I gotta go, but I will be back. Hang in there, all right?"

He nodded. "Good luck."

"You too." He exited the room and hurried down the hall, seeing two options at the end. He had to hope the one he took was the right one, and if he ran into trouble...he would do what had to. Or kneecap anyone who tried to stop him and take their weapons. He would deal with them as they came.

– –

"I think it's time we properly met. Introductions and all." Merle closed the door to the cell. "Name's Merle Dixon."

"I don't want you, but _I will kill you_ to get to your brother."

"No, you want the prick that killed your wife and child."

"That prick is your brother."

"No. You'd like to think it was that simple, but nothing ever is. The asshole that planted that bomb, I know who he is. It wasn't Daryl. He was at home with Sophia. She had the flu. She'd been fightin' it for almost a week. Daryl doesn't give two shits what you do, and he wouldn't kill unless he had no choice." Merle smirked a little. "The man who did it...he had a choice, and he wanted your power. He was a coward, clumsy, and he's been right beside you the whole time."

"What do you know?"

"I know you kidnapped my niece and my brother. I know you beat the shit out of him. I know your men probably did the same to the cop he brought with him. I know you had your men injured my men, almost to the point of killing one of them." He balled his fists. "And I know I'm going to kill you."

Phillip chuckled and readied himself. "Don't bother begging. I never did take the lesson of mercy to heart."

"I ain't gonna beg you."

– – –

Carol could hear distant gunfire in her ear, her eyes open to slits, possibly frozen open at this point. She couldn't move, and she couldn't ask or shake Sophia to see if she was still alive. She couldn't even feel her baby girl in her arms anymore, and the world was getting blurry and dark, and she knew it was going to be over soon. She was grateful to have met her daughter, but she still prayed that Sophia made it out of there. She didn't know how, but maybe Sophia was lucky. After all, she managed to make it this far.

There was a sound outside the truck. It had came three times before, and now Carol knew what it was. Someone was unlocking the trucks, trying to find people, or trying to find them so they could either to kill or save them. Carol's heart was racing as much as it could, and the sound of sliding came again. They were now on the truck beside them. She didn't know who, but she hoped it was someone on their side. Maybe they still had time for that miracle.

––

The sniper shuffled his way through the rejects and useless bastards littering the halls to the back to find the refrigerated truck. He wanted to see the girl. If he saw her, he would know if she was Williams' child. There was something about Sam that said he was hers, and there would be something about this girl that would tell him yes or no to an exceedingly important question. He would have to kill her. It was the only way to get her motivated again. She had been out of the game for years, but now that he had her again, he wasn't going to let her go. So he had to know if he had a new way to motivate her.

He noted who was on guard and knew they'd never let him open the truck, so he'd have to take them out. He was going to find out where that child was, and he wasn't going to let them stop him. He didn't mind killing a few of the Governor's men. They were all weak willed, meritless cast outs who had nothing better to do with their lives. They were either bored or lonely. If he cared, they might be sad. But he didn't, so they were just trash to be taken out.

As he neared the first guard, an order sent via text message caught their attention, and they ran inside, vastly simplifying his job. He scanned the lot and found five refrigerated trucks. He didn't know which one the child was in, but it wouldn't be difficult to find her. He just hoped the girl was still alive. It wouldn't be the same to take out an already dead girl. He wanted to be the sole reason she died, and if he had to wait for her to thaw out, he would wait. If only he could have Williams watch, just like the first time. The fire in her eyes, he couldn't wait to ignite it once more.

He unlocked the first truck and slid the door open, finding nothing inside. He moved to the next one and unlocking it. Inside was the mangled body of one of the Archer's men. He had lost a lot of blood, and he appeared to have been forgotten in here. His face was too distorted to make out, but it was clear this man was taken quite a time before the Archer.

The third truck was empty, and as he moved to the forth, having a feeling the child was inside, he heard sirens. That explosion must have caught a civilian's attention and they called the cops. He needed to hurry. He had no intentions of seeing Williams through a set of bars. No, he wanted to see her through his scoop and then blow her rare brains out. He wanted to best her on his own terms, the way he had wanted to after he killed the father of her child, but she was slick and had evaded him well, and then Phillip interrupted his hunt with jobs. Not this time. She would die, and while it did sadden him to lose such a good player, it would be gratifying to take out the only person who he's ever seen as an equal.

He grasped the lock and tried the key, but it didn't fit. Phillip must have gotten new locks for these new trucks, just for the little brat. Figures. So close yet so far away, but it was no where near over. It wasn't over until the blood of this child was spilt, and Williams' blood shortly after. It almost didn't matter if the child was hers. It would be sweeter if she was, but still taking the life of a child that could be connected to Williams, no matter how vague, was something he had to experience.

––

The fourth truck was empty, as were one, two and three. Well, there was nobody alive in any of them. Poor man. At least now his family would have closure. That's all anybody would ask for. Daryl didn't know who left them wide open, or why the keys were just left on the ground, but it was time for his luck to turn around.

He came to the final truck and tried the key, but it didn't fit. He tried all of the others, but that only proved there would be no opening this truck with any of these keys. The guard had to be the only one with the proper key. The guard and the Governor. Well, he'd never shot a lock off before, and certainly not sober, but they had to be in there. They had to be. If they weren't and he came all this way... if they weren't, and he was too late... No, they had to be inside this truck. They weren't in the middle of nowhere out of his reach and already dead.

Stepping back, he raised his arm, taking aim and shooting off the lock. It was a little harder than it looked in the movies. He missed due to the lock being so small and his waning vision. He narrowed his eyes and shot again, this time hitting it right on the nose. He rushed over and pulled up the door, his heart pounding in his chest. It was terrifying how it pounded, the blood rushing through, pumping at a speed that he could almost feel it; and upon seeing them there, snuggled together, and still, it _stopped._

 _No, please._ Climbing inside that truck felt like slow motion. He dropped to his knees beside them, seeing no signs of life. They were like statues among the smoke, beautiful and sad. It panicked him to his core, and he had to act. He slipped his arms under his daughter and carefully lifted Sophia from Carol's arms. He set her outside on the ground, minding her head, and then he went back for Carol, lowering her down beside Sophia. Now that they were both out of the truck and in sunlight, he saw their faces.

They looked peace lying there side by side, mother and child. They appeared to be dead. They were blanch yet practically blue at the same time. God, they were so fucking still. He couldn't even tell if they were breathing. Their chest weren't rising and falling in that gentle pattern of breathing. They weren't responding to him in the slightest. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know of anything he could do for them, but he did know he needed help. He had to call 911, get an ambulance down here right the fuck now. He couldn't shut down. He had to move now if they were going to have a chance.

He gazed down at his hand that was against the now blood soaked bandaged and saw his fingers were coated with blood, and there was a ringing in his ear. He had to get help for them before he blacked out.

"Freeze!"

– – –

Merle wiped blood from his jaw while Phillip spat out two of his teeth. They were even on fighting. They both were strong when it came to hand to hand, and they knew how to make a man hurt. They were very similar, only Merle had people to ground him. He still had his humanity, constantly poking at him. Phillip no longer did. He was so close to being a wild animal, and wild animals always made mistakes, left open a blind spot, because they think they have it all under control. They think they know their opponent and their next moves. They get cocky, and they fuck up. The Gov didn't know him. Nobody did. He wasn't going to win this, especially since he was running on rage. Angry didn't win wars, although it sure did help.

Phillip was panting, blood running down his nose, his lip fat and bruising. He knew he had broken a couple knuckles, and he might have a sprained wrist, but he wasn't going to stop. All injuries would heal, save for the scar this fucker's brother left on his life. Merle was going to die for giving Daryl a chance to leave, and Daryl was going to die for murdering his wife and child. What Merle _thought_ he knew was _wrong._ He didn't know shit. Hell, he was likely just buying time for his brother to find the cop and the kid. He would regret that. They all would. He was being kind, letting them freeze to death, but if they were still alive, they would die slow. Carol would, at least. She would face hell while Daryl watched, and then he would kill her right in front of Daryl. Their kid too. Phillip had to watch his family be blown to bits. He would gladly return the favor.

Merle had his middle and ring fingers broken, his ankle twisted, his eye was almost swollen shut, and his nose was one punch away from breaking. He had to seek vengeance on Phillip for what he had unjustly done to Daryl and Carol and Sophia. He wouldn't let that go lightly. Buying time for Daryl was part of it, but mostly he just wanted to make this little bitch hurt, as he wanted to make Daryl hurt. Merle wouldn't back down, and after he told him his little bitch Gareth was the real killer, he was going to bash his fucking face in. Nobody messed his with family and lived to tell the tale.

"You ready to hear the truth yet, asshole?" Merle ducked his punch and slammed his fist into Phillip's chin.

Phillip recoiled and was on his feet before Merle could blink, and he dove for a second punch, but Merle blocked. In doing so, he left himself open, and Phillip turned and threw him against the wall, causing him to first trip over the bench, banging his head into the wall, and Phillip chuckled. "What, you have nothing to stay?"

He sauntered over to him and reached down, Merle kicked his feet into Phillip's face, knocking that arrogant son of a bitch on his back, and he stood up, feeling the blood on his lip. He chucked once, humorlessly, and he prepared himself as Phillip got back on his feet. "You wanna know the truth?"

"I know the truth," he spat. "All roads point to Daryl."

"You're blind. It wasn't him." He locked eyes with the Governor. "It was _Gareth_."

Phillip didn't say anything, but he noticeably grew a shade lighter.

"Yeah, he wanted to be you, so he took one of Andrew's bombs and placed it in the car. He wanted to take you out and then swoop in to take over. Only it was Penny and Elizabeth in the car, not you. And that little cunt wormed his way into your ranks to get close to you and to ensure _you never found out_ it was him."

It was all revealed in those murky green eyes, and all the pieces fell properly into place, the full picture now unveiled, and it was brutal. Every conversation, every mission, every plan played in his head, and he could see every _glaring_ hole. Stammers from lies he never picked up on, his constant sweating bullets, shifting eyes, enthusiasm of closing the case of who murdered his family. They drinks they had. He had said it all without speaking a word, and Phillip missed it because he was hellbent on revenge, on capturing all that Daryl loved and ending it so that he could feel what Phillip had felt these past five years.

All the sound seemed to leave the room as those murky green eyes began to pulse anew with rage and blood lust. He charged at Merle and wrapped his hands around his neck. He slammed him into the wall behind him three times with all of his might and ire then tossed him to the floor and climbed on top of him, planning to strangle him to death. It wasn't directed at Merle, but he had to vent. The man had spent the last five years with was the one who took everything dear to him away. And Phillip let him be at his side. Insisted. He stared into the eyes of the man who killed his family, his humanity, every day.

Merle tried to wriggle free, shoving his hand under his neck to try and push him off, but he couldn't. His face began to shift in hue as air could not reach his lungs, and he was steadily losing strength. Phillip tightened his grip, his face flush with such anguish and self-loathing, and the wild animal began to bare its teeth.

"Stop! Put your hands in the air! Right now!"

Merle looked up through fading vision at the officer holding a gun at the Governor, and seeing that he wouldn't stop, he shot him right in the shoulder, not wanting him dead. Merle gasped in air, choking on it, and he set a hand on his throat. This was the end of the line, he was still alive, and it was one hell of a ride. Christ, Sophia better be alive too, because honestly if they could survive this and not her, the world was a fucked up place. And he already knew that it was. He hoped it was kind to her. He wouldn't bury her, not her.

– – –

It was all so black. She thought it would be different than this. She thought white and pure and beautiful. Maybe after all she'd done once she'd lost Sam and Rick, she wasn't worthy any longer. She wasn't upset. It was true. She had grown so dark that she fit in quite well here. She had hoped for some company, being forever alone in the dark wasn't appealing. She doubted she had a choice in the matter. She practically lived all alone in the dark anyway, and it seems in the dark she would remain.

 _Shhhhhheeeee._ That sound began to echo all around her. And a _whoop-whoop_. She didn't know what was happening as the darkness began to shimmer around her, a sharp pain in her arm, and she felt the cold slipping in. She couldn't move, and she became stiff and freezing. She felt like a corpse. And as the sounds grew nearer and louder though still muffled, she wanted to be one for she had no idea what was going to happen next. If she's dead, why could she feel? What the hell was going on?

She shot up, the paramedic smiled at her, and she shivered, seeing the inside of an ambulance. She felt a rush to her head and grew queasy, and the paramedic eased her back onto the gurney. She could feel her body, though some of parts tingled with numbness, and she wondered what happened. Her memory wasn't all there. Everything sounded distorted.

"Sophia! Where is she?" Carol directed the question at the paramedic. "Where is she?"

"Easy, easy. I need you to calm down." He looked her in the eye, and she complied to his order. "She's fine. She's just fine."

"What happened?"

"What happened is you have very determined friends," Rosita answered, "who love you and will hunt your ass down no matter what it takes, be it hell or high water, even causing rifts in marriages and relationships. You are a lucky woman, Carol Williams." Tears flooded her eyes as she smiled in on Carol.

Carol's gaze fell on the paramedic, letting him know he could explain her condition.

"You have a mild case of hypothermia. You're going to be a little sluggish for a while," the paramedic explained, "but with some warmth and fluids, you should be just fine. This is gonna hurt a little bit." He pulled out an IV. "All right, now we're gonna try to get you to sit up."

"C'mere." Rosita held out her hands, and Carol took them, the paramedic's hand on her back, and they got her upright. "You look so much better. When Caesar carried you out...I thought it was too late, but silly me, right? I'm so glad they got to you in time."

Carol looked at Rosita then reached over and hugged her. "Thank you."

"Just doing my job, and let me tell you this has been the most stressful case of my life." She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her back tighter. "It is so good to see you. You have no idea."

"How long have I been out?" She pulled back.

"An hour. We have a lot to do here. It's a bloodbath inside, and...we have the Archer and the Governor in custody. And we saved you and a little girl and a very lucky couple."

"Where's the girl?"

"In the other ambulance with the man who pulled you out. Take your time. They're not going anywhere."

She did as Rosita instructed, but she had to see them. She wrapped a blanket around herself and with help stepped out of the ambulance. She saw them and stopped nearing them. It was a beautiful picture. Daryl was holding Sophia's hand, smiling down at her and laughing, tears in his eyes. Sophia was smiling back, seemingly still weak, and she was speaking words that only he could hear. She wouldn't disturb them. After all, she had a job to do.

"Where are the Archer and Governor?" Carol turned to Rosita, wondering why Daryl was able to wander free.

"The Governor, aka Phillip Blake is probably at the hospital by now. He took a bullet to the shoulder." She pointed behind them with her thumb. "And in the car there is the Archer, aka Merle Dixon."

"What?" Carol frowned. "There must be some—"

"Oh, thank God." Caesar hurried over to her and swept her up in a bear hug. "You're awake."

She smiled. "Thanks to the paramedic, and you pulling me out in time."

"I was worried out of my mind." His hands dug into her skin. "I thought I'd lost you, and I couldn't bear the thought of burying another sister. God, don't you ever do that again." He had flashbacks when he saw Carol, and he couldn't shake the memory. Even now it played in his mind on repeat, and his stomach was knotted up. He was glad they told him Carol was up and about. Seeing her helped push the memory back. Well, memories. Karen wasn't the only dead body he saw when his eyes fell on Carol.

"You know me. I had to help." She rubbed his back. "I'm alive, Caesar, no need to get all emotional."

"You know him," Rosita teased, "all emotion and full of tact."

"Shut up." He flipped her off and let Carol go, looking her over. "You're okay?"

"I'm getting there." She nodded.

"Good, because Michonne needs your statement. I told her to hold off until you've gone to the hospital, but I know how you are. And it's important. You're the key person in taking down these assholes, even with all of evidence."

"I'll talk to her in a bit."

"I'll go get us some tea," Rosita offered. "We'll meet back at your place, and we'll get you under the blankets and pump you full of warm drinks. We'll stay in and watch movies. Or do whatever you want."

"No, that sounds perfect." She moistened her bottom lip. "I'll speak to Michonne, give my statement and we can go."

Caesar still had glossy eyes, and he was beaming again. "You are the best at surviving, Carol Williams."

"Okay, what did you drink or smoke?"

He laughed. "No, I just mean... It's really good to talk to you again."

"Go before your wife starts to question our relationship."

"She doesn't need to. I kinda am," Rosita admitted.

He rolled his eyes. "I've been stuck with this one for days, so it's refreshing to have a conversation with words I understand and use."

"Let me introduce to the world then, Martinez. This is called a cellular phone," she held his cell phone up, "and these are apps, which is—"

"See what I mean?" He snatched the phone and backed away. "Smartass."

"It's nice to see nothing changes."

"Almost nothing." She glanced over at Daryl and Sophia. "I'm gonna go get the teas. I'll call to see what you want from the store. Caesar has your phone, just so you know. And Andrea and Keira are waiting for you at your place."

"Okay." She began to search for Michonne when Daryl stepped into her view. "Oh, hey."

"Hey." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We should talk."

"No need. I have to give my statement then...get some rest. You two should do the same."

"Then what?"

"That's the simple part, Daryl. We live."

"Separately? After all this?" She shrugged a shoulder, and he scoffed. "Christ, Carol, we have a kid together. She has every right to know you, and I'm gonna tell her. I don't keep secrets, not from her, not ones like this."

"You're keeping it from her now? Why?"

"I haven't told her yet 'cause...I thought you'd like to. I guess I was wrong." He met her eyes. "I still need to talk you—before you give your statement."

"All right. I have some time before Michonne hunts me down."

"C'mere." He led her through the many cop cars and officers, finding some privacy behind the building. He inhaled and locked eyes with her. "I know you heard about Merle's arrest."

"It came as a bit of a shock considering you're the Archer."

"Actually...I'm not."

Her nose scrunched and her brows furrowed. "What?"

"I was recruited to be the Archer, and I was him, but not for long. After we met...after I received Sophia, I couldn't be _that_ person. It was never me to begin with, so...I resigned and let Merle take over. He was better at it anyhow, and he kept to my no killing rule. Merle is the Archer. I was just the...face of the Archer."

"And he just leaped at the opportunity to be arrested and spend the rest of his life in jail?"

"Merle would do anything for blood, includin' this. The punishment is his, and I'd appreciate if...you do sell me out or involve me in this, you take care of our daughter." She looked away. "Please, it's all I ask."

"I'm not turning you in, Daryl. I wouldn't."

"Really? After all that talk?"

"You're a father first, and while you did a lot of illegal things...your daughter should have a chance to live a normal life with her father. You love her very much, and she loves you. I won't separate you two, and all I ask is that you don't mention me ever again."

His lips twisted. "Why not?"

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

He sighed. "Then thanks."

She gave a nod. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Hey, detective," he called.

"Yes, crook?"

"Let me take you out for a cup of coffee, as a thank you. I hear you like it."

"I do, but no thank you."

"So what happens next? We pretend this never happened, that we don't know Sophia is ours, and just go on with our lives?"

"What happens next...is I'm taking you to dinner tomorrow night, just the two of us. I have some explaining to do, and so do you."

He smiled a little. "I'll see you at your place around...eight?"

"That sounds perfect." She returned his small smile and walked away to find Michonne, running a hand through her short curls. She frowned to herself and ran the story through her head as she neared her friend and Captain. It wasn't the first time she lied to someone dear to her, and as she looked at the precious little girl who grinned and waved her over, she knew it wouldn't be the last.


	20. The Devil's Share

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

 _Carol peered in on Sam as he slept, all coiled up, hugging tightly to his stuffed monkey. He was so exhausted after their day with Andrea and Caesar. Caesar was definitely ready to have children; he was practically a child himself though. He acted more like a ten year old than Sam did. She wasn't sure where Andrea stood on children. They weren't married just yet. They wanted a fall wedding, and it was the only time Dale and Amy could make time to come. They didn't want a big wedding, so it was just immediate family and a couple friends—Carol, Rick, Sam, Jacqui, and Michonne. When it was over, she bet Caesar wouldn't wait the night to start talking about children._

 _She heard a knock on the door and minded her footing as to avoid squeaky floorboards that would wake Sam on her way to the front door, seeing Rick through the peephole, soaking wet and pale with a haunted expression flashing in his blue eyes. She let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it. She went to his side._

" _Rick, what happened? Are you all right?"_

 _His wide eyes and raised right brow were non-responsive._

" _I'll get you a towel." She grabbed three from the hall closet and a washrag. She set one towel down on the couch, moving him over it and pushing him down. She draped a towel around his shoulders and had a seat on the coffee table behind her, picking up the washrag to dry his hair, and he grabbed her wrist. "What?"_

" _I...need to tell you something," he whispered, his voice hoarse in a way she had never heard._

" _What do you need to tell me?" She set her hand over his and lowered it, freeing her wrist. "You can tell me anything, Rick. You know that."_

" _I know," he muttered. "I know."_

" _So...what is it?"_

" _Do you remember the case I was working? The asshole rapist?"_

" _Yes, you shot and killed him while he was stalking his next victim."_

" _Yeah. Yeah, I did that."_

" _Rick, what are you trying to tell me?" Her eyes ran over his face, soaking in what his eyes and body language were giving away. "Rick... Did you—?"_

" _It wasn't a good shooting." He moved closer to her, their faces only inches apart, and Carol swallowed hard at his words. "It wasn't good."_

" _Rick, taking a life is hard, no matter how disgusting and cruel its been spent, but—"_

" _No, Carol." Their eyes locked. "I killed him. I killed him."_

" _You killed him, I know."_

" _He wasn't stalking anybody," he informed her. "He was just...walking out of a restaurant, happy as he could be and no shits to give. He didn't have a gun on him either. There was nobody around. It was pretty late. So I followed him, and he must've known someone was on him, so he went down an alley. He was waiting for me, smirking and cocky, and I...smirked back, just before I put two in his chest."_

" _Oh my God, Rick. Why? Why would you do that?"_

" _Because the week before he was out and had just been spotted, so he's running. Running crazy to try and escape when he saw an off duty cop, still in uniform, and he thought he was after him, so he started shooting blindly. And that motherfucker killed his two year old daughter in the backseat." His once wide eyes were now full of tears. "Morales survived. We sent him flowers. But his little girl Violet... She uh, she didn't make it off the table."_

 _She squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh God." She had heard about that. She and Sam sent a card to the Morales', but a card wasn't enough to lessen their anguish. They had lost their child, and that was going to linger with them for the rest of their lives. God be with them._

" _We were all so busy trying to save Violet that he escaped. I wasn't gonna risk that happening again. I couldn't." He ran a hand through his hair. "I had to, Carol. I had to. He got Devil's share."_

" _The what?" Carol opened her eyes, brows meeting in confusion._

" _You know, the Devil's share—that's what you call it when a man like that gets his. It's the way the world balances itself out."_

" _Why are you telling me this?" She knew what she had said at the start of the conversation, but this wasn't something he should tell anybody._

" _I had to tell someone, and...then I found myself outside your building."_

" _Well...I won't tell anyone, but you should go home." She rose and headed back to her room to get the bag he left. "It's late. Lori is probably worried sick about you. I can give you a change of clothes, I think you left some here when you babysat Sam last. They might not fit, because I washed them and they shrunk a little, but it's better than letting you wear those wet clothes a second more. I'll lend you an umbrella."_

" _How is Sam?" He hung outside her bedroom, keeping his voice now._

" _He's well. He's asleep now, but he's okay. Why?"_

" _Just...wanted to make sure."_

" _Sam will be okay, Rick. He'll live well into his nineties, and we'll have two or three beautiful grandchildren. And I know he and his future siblings will get along great." She smiled when he tilted his head at the siblings comment. She wasn't seeing anybody at the moment. "I know how serious you and Lori are, and I think it's nice you have someone."_

" _Thanks." He felt a little weird to be blushing after the conversation they had. "Are you seeing anyone right now?"_

" _No. I'm too busy with Sam and work. Although if I keep it up, Andrea will force me to go out clubbing with her. She's already asking to set me up for her wedding." She rolled her eyes and laughed a little. "Speaking of, are you coming to the wedding?"_

" _Caesar and Andrea's wedding?"_

" _Unless you have another wedding you've been invited to."_

" _Yeah. I'm thinking about bringing Lori with me. As my plus one."_

" _That's a good idea. I'd like to get to know her better. Our first meeting wasn't so great. And Sam should get to know her. I think it would be easier for him to accept you two dating if he got to know Lori first." She spotted the bag in her closet and handed it to him. "It'll make big news like engagements and pregnancies easier. I'll make you some coffee for the way back."_

" _But we're not engaged or pregnant. She's not."_

" _Not yet, but you know how Sam was born. He wasn't at all planned. Things happen, and I don't want him to hate you or her. So do bring her to the wedding."_

" _All right." He tapped her arm. "Hey, I just wanted to say thank you, Carol, for understanding."_

" _It wasn't good...but it was right." She met his eyes. "And it's between us."_

 _He nodded, feeling better._

 _She watched him slip into the bathroom then stepped into the kitchen to make a half pot of coffee. She didn't think Rick could do something like that, and it was more of vengeance than justice. The asshole did murder a child and almost the father as well, among other heinous things, so maybe a little vengeance was needed. He was where he belonged now, and the rest didn't matter. They couldn't change what happened, and Rick wasn't a murderer. It wouldn't happen twice. It clearly weighed heavily on him, and that would be a reminder for him to never do that again. She trusted that and him._

 _She shook her head and expelled a breath. She knew Rick. She knew him like the back of her hand. He had already been cleared for the shooting, and he was seeing the therapist Michonne had brought in. He would be all right in time, and they were fine now, just so long as he didn't end up eating a bullet. He wasn't in good shape, and while he didn't regret the killing...he was regretting something. Or worried about something. The Devil's share. Where the hell did that come from?_

 _Rick stepped out of the bathroom, bag shouldered, and he looked in on Sam. He smiled, happy to his son sleeping peacefully. He was grateful his son wasn't in harm's way, not like Violet, and he hoped Sam forever stayed safe. If there was a price to pay for his actions, he could only hope he would be the one to pay it, not Sam or Carol or Lori. He would do his best to keep them safe. He always would. He hoped the price wasn't too high._

" _Here." She held out a to-go coffee mug._

" _Thank you."_

" _You're welcome. Why don't I call you a cab?"_

" _I appreciate this."_

" _I know." She set a hand on his shoulder. "It hasn't always been easy between us, and we weren't always friends, but I have your back."_

" _And I have yours."_

" _I know that too." She smiled and picked up the phone, finding the number on the fridge. "Have a seat, but don't turn on the TV. It might wake Sam."_

" _So," he picked up the lighter from her coffee table and rolled it between his hands, "do you want Andrea to set you up?"_

" _Not really. The men she knows are all stuck up assholes or worse. We have two very different types, and I'd rather not get into it with her." She peered at him, the phone ringing. "Why do you ask?"_

" _'Cause if you need it, Shane can be your plus one. It'd get Andrea off your back."_

" _Really?"_

" _Yeah. He and Andrea don't know each other all that well, and he owes me. You two got along pretty well, if I recall."_

" _We did." She set a hand on the counter. "Okay. Yeah, that would be nice."_

" _I'll give him a call." He smiled a little. He didn't expect it to be so normal between them now that she knew. It had been eating at him to tell someone, and while he would have told Lori, he wasn't sure. Carol had always been close through Sam, and he would tell Lori one day. What he needed right now was a friend, and Carol was that friend. He was so appreciative of her support. He hoped Lori felt the same._

 _He truly hoped she could make it to the wedding as well. Sam was going to love her, until he learned she was dating his father. They would have a lot to work through, but they would get through it. Carol and Lori and he would make sure of that. They were a family now, and they would work it out. That's what family did. It was funny that Carol, who had grown up with no real family of her own, understood family better than he did. What she's done for him and was still doing for him... She was an incredible person and an invaluable friend. He was so grateful to have her in his life._

– – –

Daryl knocked on the door to Aaron's hospital room, Sophia holding the flowers they'd picked out for him along with a card, and he smiled at them. He was alone, so Eric must have gone to the bathroom or to get something to eat.

"Daryl. It's good to see you. I wasn't expecting you."

"I just wanted to see how you were. You didn't look so good back...there."

"I'm going to be fine, with some physical therapy and time." He smiled. "Thank you for keeping your word."

He nodded.

"We brought flowers." Sophia crossed over to him, holding up a bundle of various flowers. "And a card."

"That's so sweet." Eric joined them, holding a cup of coffee. "Thank you, honey."

She smiled, her entire face lighting up. "You're welcome."

"So, how are you?" Daryl inquired. "How did you even get there?"

Aaron gestured for him to have a seat and straightened, groaning under his breath. "Well, it's a long story."

Daryl let Sophia have the only free chair and leaned against the wall behind her. "I've got time."

He rubbed his jaw and lowered his hand. "It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't," Eric insisted the second those words left Aaron's lips.

Aaron just glanced at him before continuing. "I...was doing work with a support group, helping teens and young adults come to terms with their sexuality and let them know they're not alone, that they always can come to us with any problem. I've been doing it for years, and one of the teenagers spoke to me about his father. His dad was a cop, but...recently he had been purchasing things that weren't in his budget."

"His dad was dirty," Daryl deduced.

Aaron nodded. "He had suspicions and just wanted to talk to somebody about it. He came to the group sessions but rarely spoke and sat in the back with his hood up. He didn't know anybody else there, but he was getting better. He started to speak more and stopped wearing the hoodie, stopped trying to make himself disappear into the background." He shook his head, eyes downward. "After a couple of weeks I noticed that he started wearing the hoodie again—only this time to cover bruises. I paid his family a visit and caught his dad with Andrew. He was paying him off."

Daryl folded his arms. "They see you?"

"Yeah. His dad threatened me and...a few weeks later the Governor came to see me. I guess he had men observing me. I thought he was simply going to kill me because I was a loose end. Instead...he came to one of my sessions, and he studied me the entire hour then made me a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Sophia met his eyes.

"Either I help him, or he was going to kill Eric." He looked over at the man beside him, who looked back at him with equal love and admiration, taking his hand. "He didn't know about Eric's computer skills until much later, and when he did, he kept Eric there then me when he couldn't force Eric to do what he wanted. We'd been down there for almost nine months before you all came."

"Shit." Daryl pushed off the wall. "Nobody tried to...find you?"

"My parents live out of state," Eric replied, "and we only really speak on holidays. And Aaron's parents... Well, they're not around."

"I'm sorry," Sophia whispered.

"Don't be." Eric smiled at her. "It worked out for the best. We're so thankful for you all being kidnapped."

She laughed. "Then you're welcome."

Daryl snorted softly. "Hey, Sophia?"

"Yeah?" She tilted her head back to look up at him.

"Why don't you go get something to drink for us?" He pulled money from his wallet. "You know the way, right?"

"I'll go," Eric offered. "I need to stretch my legs anyway."

"You sure?"

"We can go together, and Aaron can keep Sophia company." He rose from his seat.

"All right. Behave." Daryl gave a nod to Aaron then left with Eric.

Aaron inhaled and scanned the room then met the girl's eyes. "So, how have you been?"

"Haven't slept much," she admitted. "Dad wants to send me to a therapist, and...my uncle's going to prison."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but there is a bright side."

"I know." She sighed. "I just...wish it could've turned out better."

"Better how?"

"I know my uncle has done bad things, and he shouldn't get off, but...I wish he didn't have to go away for the rest of his life. It doesn't seem fair. Phillip deserves it." She pursed her lips. "And I guess Merle does too. It just feels...wrong."

"I know what you mean."

"It stinks, but...at least I still get to see him." She turned her head and noticed the card on his bedside table. "Carol came to see you?"

"Huh?" He followed her gaze. "Yeah, Detective Williams was here. She wanted to see how I was doing. She's a nice woman."

Her face fell. "She hasn't been to see me."

"She hasn't?"

"No," she murmured, shaking her head. "Dad says...she's busy. Dad says a lot of things, a lot of excuses really."

"I'm sure she's trying. She was in a rush when she came to check on me, and it was really just another statement I had to give."

" _I was there too_ ," Sophia argued. "I saw a lot of people. I heard a lot of things. I know she doesn't want to see me, because Detective Martinez took our statements. He wouldn't even answer my questions about her. All I wanted to say was thank you, and I can't. She won't let me! And I don't understand why!"

"I don't know the woman, but she may not like praise. Maybe she doesn't like to be embarrassed or the center of attention."

"He wouldn't even give me her number."

"Well..." He didn't want to say what he knew about Williams and the girl, so he offered her the card with her work and cell phone number on it. "Here. Eric has one too."

"Really?"

"Really." He held it out. "Give her a call and thank her."

"Thank you." She accepted the card and held it close between her hands.

"You're welcome."

––

Daryl and Eric made their way to the pop machine. Daryl had hoped it would work out this way. He needed to speak to Eric alone. He wouldn't tell Sophia about Carol, not like this. He had to come and see them, mostly to make sure Aaron was going to be okay. He looked like shit before, and he just had to know. Now he needed to ask Eric something.

Daryl got a root beer for himself and a cola for Sophia. "Why didn't you tell the Governor about Carol sooner?"

He crossed his arms and peered at Daryl. "I was trying to protect her. I knew he wanted both mother and child, and I figured if I could prevent him from knowing who her mother is...I could keep him from kidnapping her. I was wrong."

"So, he didn't know who Carol was when they took us?"

"No, but he did soon after. He could tell I was withholding information, so he...took out his anger and disappointment on Aaron to beat it out of me." His eyes had widened, and Daryl could see he was still there in that room, tied down, watching the man he loved take a beating meant for him.

"It wasn't your fault," Daryl informed him. "Phillip was an asshole."

He nodded and his lips gave a small smile, but his eyes told Daryl he did blame himself. "We've kept it to ourselves. I deleted any files about that from the computer. No one will be able to retrieve it."

"Carol asked you the same question?"

He nodded. "I know why she did what she did." He had seen the slight eye roll Daryl have given. "You can't imagine the strength of that woman."

His brows furrowed at that. "What do you mean?"

"I found more...on her, and... well, she's a survivor. Anything more is her business." He exhaled. "Let's get back to them. Unless you have more questions."

"No, no that was it." He watched Eric leave then pondered what he meant. What had Carol gone through? He needed to speak to her, and soon. After standing him up so rudely and not even bothering to answer her phone, it was time he got answers. She was right; they both had explaining to do, and he wasn't going to let that be swept under a rug. He would just have to hunt the woman down.

– – –

 _Carol curled up beside Andrea, feeling Keira asleep in between her and Andrea's legs. Caesar was unconscious on the floor with a pillow and half the duvet draped across him, and Rosita was on the other side of Carol. The TV still played the movie they had fallen asleep to, cartons of food littered the nightstand and floor, mugs of hot tea and chocolate milk and half full glasses of water along with them. They were all sleeping peacefully, an unconventional family—and sleeping arrangement._

 _Carol woke to a phone call in the morning, and she felt the world stop at the words that filled her ear. She showered and dressed, dismissing any offers of food, only taking coffee. She went down to the station and met with Michonne, feeling a knot in her stomach._

 _She gripped the frame of the open window, the air washing over her face, eyes squeezed shut. "I need to see it."_

" _Are you sure?" Michonne looked her over. "You don't—"_

" _I need to see it," she repeated, straightening and locking eyes with Michonne. "Please."_

 _While the crime scene unit had done its sweep of the half collapsed building, they had found an armory. The room had been ransacked shortly before the police arrived as it was in disarray, but they had found a weapon that had been used in more than a dozen cold cases. It had no finger prints on it, but the ballistics confirmed it was a match to those cases and more importantly to one man._

 _The sniper rifle had modifications made to it, and it was clearly a favorite. He would sorely miss it, Carol thought as she ran her eyes over the weapon. She could feel her hands shaking, though upon looking they weren't. She was shaking on the inside—her knees and her hands. It wasn't from fear; it was from fire. It was consuming her, preparing her for the next person she would become. As hope filled her being, she knew that after today she wasn't going to be the same woman who had been locked in a refrigerated truck, just as she was no longer the woman who had lost her son. They were still with her, but no longer her. And now she was becoming someone new; someone who wouldn't have to hide her life for fear of that bastard shooting holes into it again._

 _She ran her fingers over two letters carved into the stock. "Huh."_

" _What?" Michonne joined her, having seen this weapon for the first time. "Are those...initials?"_

" _Perhaps." She gazed at them. "Or his name."_

" _If you have any plans," Michonne instructed, "cancel them."_

" _Already done." She met her eyes. "I won't let that son of a bitch escape this time, Michonne. If I have to stay awake for weeks, I will find him."_

" _We will find him," she corrected. "We're a family here, and when you screw with one of us, you screw with all of us."_

 _She smiled a little and nodded. She felt Michonne place a hand on her arm as she passed, going to call in the others, and Carol inhaled, letting her instincts and everything she knew about this son of a bitch take over. She wasn't going to let him slip through her fingers again._

 _Exiting the room, those two small letters seared into her brain. E.D._

– – –

"I'll only help you if you help me," Phillip repeated to Carol.

"I'm not going to make a deal," Carol hissed. "You're going to pay for everything you did."

"Then...I'm so sorry to inform you, Detective Williams, that I can't help you." He shrugged. "I don't know who E.D is. I've never met anyone with that name or initials."

She ground her teeth. "I'll find him on my own then." She started for the door.

A dark smirk crossed his lips. "You'll never find him, Detective."

She halted and looked over her shoulder at him. "Oh, I _never_ will?"

"He's like a shadow. You'll only find him behind you, and by then...it'll be far too late."

"Well, I've chased shadows before," she informed him. "I've captured them too."

"Not him."

She approached him. "Phillip, you think you know me. You think you can read me like a book, but you don't even know just how wrong you are. You're a hunter, a charmer, a negotiator. You're...a man of many, many masks, and I do admire how you manage to keep track of them all. I'm immune to your charms, and I know my enemy well." She splayed her hands on the table and gazed into his murky eyes. "Let me tell you something: I'm a hunter too. And I will not stop tracking every speck of evidence until I have that son of a bitch in cuffs. I am relentless and ruthless, and I've been around enough of your kind to know I can blend in quite well. I can be invisible, just like him. But...you should be glad I am invisible, Phillip. You really do not want _to see me_. Because when you do see me...it'll be the _last thing_ you ever see."

His smirk had faded, and now only pulsating green eyes looked back at her, his teeth clenched.

"What's the matter? Did you see something you didn't like?" She stepped back. "Rot in hell. And save a seat for your buddy."

"You may have teeth," he called to her, "but you don't have—"

"Do not tell me what I do or not have!" she snapped. "I know my skills, and I know how far I am willing to go. You will not get a deal, and I will not allow you to ever see the light of day as a free man. You set fire to yourself the moment you kidnapped my little girl, and now...the flames are going to swallow you whole. I'll see to that." She opened the door and exited the room.

"No luck?" Martinez caught her on the way out.

"He didn't talk, but he's knows something." She dug out her keys. "He's going to do something. This E.D. or Ed. He's going to strike again, and I need to make sure you all are safe."

"We will be."

She met his eyes and saw it. He had her back. He believed in her. He knew she would keep them safe. She could see that he would die to keep her safe. She saw it all. That's why they were such good partners. They could read each other well. Carol knew how to hide things, even from him, and it wasn't fair. She might not be able to explain her past to Daryl, but she needed to eat, and Caesar needed to know the truth. It had been a long time coming.

"Let's go grab a bit to eat." She unlocked the car. "Your favorite place."

"You hate their sandwiches. The meatballs upset your stomach."

"Then I won't order the meatball."

He was wary. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, now let's go before I change my mind."

Piling into the car, she drove to his favorite restaurant. It was a nice little place, and Eastman—the owner and maker of all the cheeses—was kind and good company. His kids were precious, and they sometimes were here after school. Carol knew them well. She couldn't stomach the meatballs, but she enjoyed the people and the conversation. And the dessert.

It was a good place to do this. She had broken bad and good news to Caesar here many times, and he's done the same with her. It was the place Carol really met Caesar and Karen and Gloria. Eastman's father used to work here, and he was just as generous as his son. He kept Carol fed most days, and he introduced her to her family. He couldn't take care of her, and honestly she fought like hell to let him know he didn't have to. He still did all he could for her. It only made sense she should tell Caesar his family was a bit bigger than the seven of them, even if three were in Heaven.

They were greeted by Eastman, and they spent some time talking with him. Caesar promised to come in later to give him a more thorough catch up, and they ordered, finding their table. Carol could still see the three letters she had carved into the wood when she was a girl. Those words were all that kept her going most of the time, and it was nice to see them when she needed them.

Caesar caught her tracing the curve of the J and felt cold inside. Every time he saw her doing that, he saw the small, messy little ginger who he was stunned to know was the same age as him. She was so small, so on guard, and he was grateful to have Karen be there. Mom might have taken her in, but it was Karen who brought Carol back to being human again. Karen had a way with people, with breaking down walls no matter how tall and thick they were. He used to be envious of their relationship, but he wasn't a kid anymore. He knew there were things Carol could only tell Karen, and he accepted that.

"Hey." He reached over and caught her hand. "You wanted to talk."

She inhaled, returning to now with him and nodded. She set her hands in her lap and drew in her breath, her heart racing. She had never hidden something so critical from Caesar before and while she did want to confess, she was terrified of how he would respond. She could only take a leap of faith. Perhaps he would still be there to catch her. Or let her fall into a puddle of mud like when they were kids. Ass.

"Do you remember my undercover work? The second time, I mean."

"Yeah, you were shot."

"I wasn't undercover. I hadn't been shot." She swallowed. "I was pregnant."

"Pregnant?" His face revealed nothing.

"Yes. I met a man at a bar, and we...conceived a child. I didn't know until a couple weeks later, and by that point the man and I were no longer together or even speaking. I knew the sniper was after me, and I couldn't bare to lose that child to him. I hid it as well as I could, even from the people I love and trust the most. Michonne helped me hide it, and by accident Rosita discovered I was pregnant too. You know how painfully nosy she can be." She could feel the tears in her eyes as she explained herself. "I couldn't put that baby in harm's way, so I put her up for adoption. Closed adoption."

"Rosita knew?"

She nodded, the tears burning as they muddied her vision.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes large, and he started shaking his head. "What else? You know more than that, or you wouldn't have told me. What else is there?"

"I found her." Her voice hitched. "The little girl who was kidnapped...is my daughter."

He stared. "Christ, then that man, the Archer's brother, is her father?"

"I didn't know that at the time. I was drunk when we first met, and...we didn't exactly swap backgrounds. I didn't even know until Phillip told us." She searched his face. "She doesn't know yet, but with the sniper at large and having worked with Phillip, he might. He might be after her, and I need you to help me keep her safe."

He slammed his fist down on the table, she flinched, and he stormed out.

"Caesar." She hurried after him, catching him outside, gripping the back of a metal bench. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before now. I was just trying to protect you. If he knew you might know about her... I couldn't let you get hurt because of me again. Or Andrea or Keira. He took my son, and Rick, and there was way in hell I was going to let him take your wife and child."

He spun around and got in her face, not able to speak, his emotions so mixed that she couldn't read his eyes.

She dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Christ." He scoffed, racked a hand through his hair and unable to look at the woman before him. He inhaled deeply and let it out then he embraced her, and she was stunned. He squeezed his eyes shut. "You don't have to apologize to me. I get it. Of course I get it."

She let out a small laugh, tears falling free, and she smiled. "Then why did you storm out?"

He pulled back to look at her. "Because I'm pissed at you."

"You just said you understood."

"I do. You did the right thing. You did the thing I could never have done, and you're still...here. You did what was best for you and your child, and that pain...is what pisses me off. The after is what pisses me off. You had to endure that alone. All these years." He looked tormented. "I've moaned and groaned about a lot of shit, and you had this. I kept pushing you to see Keira, and...you never even got to see your own daughter. I'm so sorry. And you're an asshole."

She smiled. "I wasn't alone."

"Yeah, Michonne is great, but she's not your partner, not...family. Well, not like you and me."

"Nobody's like you and me."

"That's true." He ran his eyes over hers. "I don't know how you do the things you do, Carol Williams."

"Because I have to."

"You don't have to do it alone though. Promise me that whatever happens with the sniper, you'll never go through anything like that alone again."

"I doubt I'll go through that again, but I promise."

He shook his head and hugged her. "We'll make that bastard pay for this. For Sam and Rick and Sophia."

She didn't respond. She knew these coming days were going to be the hardest of her career. They were before, but now she had more to lose. If she didn't stop him, he wouldn't stop killing the people she loved. She knew that the last time they had crossed paths, and there was no Governor to stop him this time. She would have to decide how this ended, and she knew it wasn't going to be simple. It would be the hardest choice of her life, and she could only hope she would make it correctly. The Devil's share or justice. In the end it would be her and him, just as it had been all along. She had made a promise at Sam's grave, the grave where Rick's blood had been split, and she was coming to a point where she could act on it. And that was petrifying, more so than telling the truth.

They returned to their table, and Carol explain that year to him over lunch. It was easy to tell him about Daryl kidnapping her since he knew about Rosita. They had found out what the other knew when they started to investigate Rosita. She was clean so far, but that didn't mean much. There were still many things to go over, and she had been with Daryl for over a decade. She might get lucky, or she might fry. They didn't know how it would work out, but they were going to do their best to make sure they saw her as she was: a good, clean cop.

Carol had struggled with her opinion of Rosita for hours, but she knew in her heart nothing would change all the good Rosita had done. Rosita had been with Carol through a lot of awful and wonderful things, and nothing could taint those memories. If Sophia had been hurt as badly as Carol or had been raped as Carol feared she had, she wouldn't be so kind. But her daughter was safe. Rosita had done her best to keep her that way, and Carol respected that. She had been there for her little girl when Carol couldn't be, through flus and shots and cavities and just knowing that someone Carol knew and loved was in her child's life, especially someone like Rosita, warmed her heart.

"Have you talked to her?" Caesar drank from his glass.

"No. I haven't spoken to her since we were in the truck." She ate a piece of meat that fell from her sandwich. "And it's best that we don't speak, not until the sniper is either dead or arrested."

"You can't ignore her. You're bonded now."

"How are we bonded?"

"When you nearly die with someone, you bond. Why do you think we're so close?"

She chuckled. "That's a good point, but no. She doesn't need me in her life, and I'm better on my own."

"Translation: you're scared shitless."

"Of course I am. Caesar, it's not a normal situation. At least with Sam, I was in his life every day. With Sophia...I only met her because I was kidnapped by her father who needed my help to find her. I can't explain the sniper and Sam to a ten year old."

"How about to her father?"

"I'll try."

"He'll understand. And if he doesn't, he has a stupid haircut and you deserve better."

She smirked. "I'm not a child. I don't need him to understand, I just need him to know why I made the choices I did."

He nodded.

"Enough about me. How are things with Keira and Andrea?"

"We installed a security system."

"It's about damn time."

"I know." He finished his lunch. "Keira still has nightmares. It's only been three days, but she insisted on sleeping with us, and she has to have a light on. Andrea's worried about her, and I've asked Denise to speak with Keira a couple times a week."

"Denise? Why?"

"She happens to be a therapist when she's not dissecting dead bodies."

"Huh. I didn't know that."

"You've been busy tracking down killers."

"Still. It's odd how much I've missed. Heh, maybe once the sniper is behind bars, I can rest easy, return to being more than a cop."

"I'd like to see that. Just a bit."

"Only a bit?"

"Yeah."

She laughed. "I'd like that too."

"I have some big news. Well, sort of. It depends."

"You're blabbering. What is it?"

"Andrea and I are...thinking about having more kids."

She gaped. "You are?"

"Yeah. Not right now, but soon. She wanted to stop with Keira, but...she changed her mind. We said we'd talk about it again when Keira was older, and we both want a bigger family. I want to try for a boy."

"That's great news, Caesar."

"It is. We spent the entire night discussing it, and we have the room. We have the financial stability as well. We weren't entirely secure money wise with Keira, and that was a bit of mess. Well, you know."

"Yeah, but you made it through all right. Keira's a good kid, and you're both good parents."

"Thank you. So are you."

She blinked, not sure how she felt about that, and she smiled for him. "Lunch is over. We should head back."

"Let's catch ourselves a sniper."

––

Back at the station, Carol was more than stunned to find someone waiting for her at her desk. Caesar had to nudge her forward, and she just kept walking, unable to stop until she was beside them. She set her coffee down and met her eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." Sophia smiled a little. "Abe dropped me off. I made a deal with him, so if Dad asks you picked me up."

"What? No. I am not going to lie for you. You need to go home. I'll call you a cab." She had a seat and picked up her phone.

"Please, wait."

Her gaze moved to the girl. "Why should I?"

"I just—I just wanted to talk to you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disrupt your work. Really, I didn't."

She hung up the phone. "I'm overwhelmed with a case right now, and I don't have time to talk. I'm sorry, sweetheart. That's just how it is. You need to call Daryl and have him come get you."

"I can't. He's in an interview."

"An interview?"

"Yeah. I lied. I'm supposed to be in the car. He's going to be a night watchman at the store...down the street."

"Oh, God." She pressed her hand to her eyes. "Sophia, you can't do that."

"I know. We were just so close by, and you weren't answering your phone."

"How did you get my number?"

"From Aaron. We went to visit him, and I saw your card. He gave it to me so I could call you."

Shit. "Why would you want to call me?"

Her eyes dimmed a little. "T—to thank you."

"Well, you just did, so why don't I have Shepard escort you back to your dad's car."

"So you were lying."

Carol stopped scanning for Shepard and met Sophia's eyes. "Lying?"

"When we were in the truck. I know we're not friends. Kids and adults are never friends, but...you just seemed really nice and really..." She blinked hard to keep the tears away. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"Sophia." She reached over and grasped her wrist. "I would love to talk to you, but not right now, not until the case I'm working is solved. It's a very dangerous case, and the man I'm pursuing is unpredictable. I don't want you getting caught in the middle, because you're hanging around me. I'm sorry, but I won't put you at risk. Now please, let me have Shepard take you to your car."

She nodded. "Will you pick up the phone when I call at least?"

"Sure. I'll try."

"Okay. Could you walk me to the car?"

"No."

"She's busy." Caesar joined them. "And she's bad company, so rude. I'll take you. I'll even throw in a cinnamon roll."

"I don't like cinnamon rolls." She made a face.

"Me either," Carol blurted, not sure why she'd said that.

"Fine, I have cookies too."

"He's a good guy." Carol released her wrist. "He'll take care of you, just don't let him talk about food. Once he gets started, he doesn't stop."

She nodded and slipped out of the chair. "Um, could I call tonight?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "Go on."

Sophia wanted to hug her goodbye, but she didn't think Carol would be comfortable with it. She smiled and left with Caesar. She would find a way to thank Carol, like a gesture of thanks, not just words. She hoped whatever she came up with Carol liked it.

Carol met with the stand-in Rosita, who she wasn't warming up to, about the cameras in the Governor's building and around it. She wanted to try and spot the sniper, but so far they only found faces of the men they had either scraped off the floor or hauled off in handcuffs. She didn't see what she knew she would see in the sniper in any of these men. Just as he could sense her, she could sense him. Her stomach turned when he was near, her skin crawled, and she had felt that recently. It wasn't strong enough for her to worry he was right around the corner, but it wasn't dim either. He was watching her trying to find him, and while he thought she wouldn't, she knew she would. This time she was prepared and ready for the risks.

– – –

"Ryan, it's all right. I know you have a lot on your plate right now with the girls." She set her dinner plate in the sink. "And three days is not rude. Three months would be rude. If I got kidnapped and you didn't try to call me at all over the course of three months? I'd kick your ass."

There was a knock on the door.

"I gotta go, but we'll talk more when you're in town next week. Bye." She hung up and weaved through the boxes of the sniper's kills, all the unsolved murders. She had brought them home and was studying them. She would find a pattern that would lead to him. As close as they were, she had to. She wouldn't make a deal with Phillip, so she would just have to use what she had.

Opening the door, she found Daryl on the other side. She wasn't expecting that. She thought it was Rosita. They had plans to review the photos from the crime scenes and then she was going to tell her everything she knew about the Governor's men. So why was he here and not her?

"What brings you by?" She let him inside and collected the files from her coffee table.

"We were supposed to have dinner a couple days ago, but you clearly forgot."

"I didn't forgot." She set the files on the kitchen counter and faced him. "Other things happened."

"More important things, you mean."

"Yes, more important things. I'm trying to track down Phillip's sniper."

"Shit, that ain't important—that's impossible."

"Why do you say that?"

"Guy's like a ghost. Nobody's ever been able to find him, even Rosita. He's not on the grid. It's like he never existed. He doesn't even have finger prints."

She narrowed her eyes. "How do you know that?"

"Crazy motherfucker burned 'em off." He stuffed his hand into his pockets.

"He did?"

"Yeah."

"How do you know?" She crossed her arms. "Did you meet him?"

"No, not me. The guy before me and Merle, he met Phillip's sniper a couple months before he retired. He told me about him, not what he looked like though. He told me he always had a gun on him, had no finger prints and liked to smoke."

"Smoke? Cigarettes? Cigars?"

"I dunno. He never went into detail about him. That's how he was."

"Daryl, that helps me so much. You don't even know how much. I have to go—"

"No, no, you can't just run off now."

"Daryl, this case—"

"—will still be here in the mornin'. Now we need to talk about Sophia. We were gonna have dinner to do that, but you stood me up."

"I did not stand you up. I called the restaurant to tell them to tell you I couldn't make it. I don't have your number, and I have to close this case as soon as possible. You don't know what's at risk here."

"I know what's at risk between us," he retorted. "Now, I don't like keeping this from Sophia, and I know you don't want her to know. I know you told me not to tell her, but I can't do that. If she finds out I knew about you being her mom and that I didn't tell her, she... she will never forgive me. So either you tell her or I will."

She dropped her arms. "I do not have time for this, Daryl. We don't. Now, if you want to tell me more about the sniper or let me meet the man who was the Archer or whatever they called him before you—"

"Why the hell do you care more about the sniper than your own kid?" he shouted. "And why would I help you when you won't even consider talking to me about our situation?"

"Fine, I'll talk to you! We can help each other, but we need to arrange a meeting as soon as tomorrow. Please, I have to know more about the sniper, and I refuse to make a deal with Phillip to learn more."

"Wait, that was on the table?"

"God no. I'd rather cut my own eyes out with a rusted spoon." She shook her head. "So I need to talk to this man. Please, Daryl, just ten minutes. It's all I'm asking for."

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"All I wanted was a cup of coffee to go over our situation! You changed it to dinner, stood me up and now won't even try to explain yourself. It's just a case. When are you going to realize it's not your entire life?"

She scoffed and met his eyes. "This case is my entire life."

"No. No, it's not."

"Yes, it is! Stop pretending that you know who I am or what I am about, Daryl. We are not the same person! We aren't the same people who met almost eleven years ago! I am a detective first. This is who I am, and I'm not asking you to like this person, because I already have people in my life who do, so either help me or get out."

"I ain't going anywhere until we talk about Sophia."

"For the love of—" She stepped back before she put his head through a wall and rubbed her temples, moving into the kitchen.

He tossed his coat on the couch and moved through the boxes to sit down. "I'm ready when you are."

She spun around. "Unless it's about the man before you, I have nothing to say at this time."

"Then I better get comfortable."

"Goddamn it, Daryl!"

He frowned, not sure why she was so worked up. "What?"

"You don't know what this case means to me," she spoke low, her voice breaking, "what that son of bitch means to me. You think I'm doing all of this because I'm trying to avoid Sophia and you? It's just the opposite. I'm doing this _for_ Sophia, for you. You don't know what..." She stopped and turned from him, trying to calm herself.

"For me? Why would you need to find this guy for me?" He stood up. "Or Sophia? He doesn't know us or have any reason to kill us. We're safe, Carol."

"No. You're not at all safe." She hugged herself. "You'll never be safe until I arrest him."

"What are you talking about? I've never done anything to him."

She faced him, and he was on the other side of the counter. "You met me, Daryl. You slept with me and got me pregnant. That's what you did to him."

"What do you mean? Were you in a—"

"No, no, but that was enough." The tears in her eyes were so heavy that she was scared to blink, because they would fall. She knew he could see them, but still she didn't want them to fall. She didn't want to fall apart again. "It was enough last time."

He met her eyes. "What happened last time?"

"My son and his father were murdered...by him."

Daryl's mouth dried up as the tears she had desperately been trying to push back escaped, her words replying in his mind, soft and full of unmasked grief. He had hoped he heard wrong, but that was foolish. She was right; he didn't know her. He didn't know anything about her. And what he had said to her while they were locked up. How could he have been so stupid? So blind? It was evident only now that he could see the agony in her eyes that it'd been there all along. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose Sophia. He couldn't even think about it as a possibility when he was the face of the Archer. He always made sure there was a plan to keep her safe. He would die before he saw her hurt. In his mind the idea of anything bad happening to her was unthinkable, because he couldn't have a single thought about her dying or worse. It made all of the air in the room vanish, and the earth beneath him fell out, so he couldn't go there. However not only did Carol have no choice but to go there when he dragged her into Sophia's kidnapping, she'd been there already. And somehow she was still here.

She walked over to the couch and collapsed there. "I got pregnant with my son when I was pretty young."

"You don't have to tell me," he whispered.

"No, I do. I...I want to."

He sat beside her. "Then uh, go on."

"Rick was Sam's father. We met through work, but we weren't compatible. We fought a lot. He even kicked me out once. We didn't speak for a long time after that, but...we made up. I got pregnant, and I had his son. I had Sam." Her voice trembled, and all of the misery and anguish returned and clawed at her, but she had to keep going. He had to know how bad it would get. He had to know her reasons for staying away, for giving Sophia up, for standing him up. She couldn't wait. The clock was ticking, and each second that slipped by, he slipped into the shadows, nearing the point of never being found. She needed to do this, and he would see. She knew he would.

"Then what?" he pressed, worried when she stopped talking. He wasn't sure if he was ready to hear this story, to learn something so private and vital to who Carol was, but that didn't matter. She was ready to trust him with this for the sake of their child, and he would listen. He would learn. And he would do whatever he had to do to keep Sophia and Carol safe.

"It was early December, and Sam and I had a trip planned. Every time I tried to make plans for us work got in the way, and I didn't try to make our plans work. This time I had. We were going anywhere Sam wanted to. He made a game of it, writing it in an envelope and leaving it at home; so when we were finished with our errands, I'd get to open it and find out where he chose." She laced her fingers together. "Caesar was supposed to have Sam. They were going to play baseball or go to the batting cage. I'm not sure which, but something came up so he ended up with me. And...on the way home—" her voice broke. "On the way home...the sniper shot Sam, and he died in my arms. He—he was ten years old."

Daryl lowered his face into his hand, his fingers grasping his hair, his eyes closing. He didn't know what to say here. He knew how this story ended, but he didn't know what to say. There was no comforting her, that was for sure. Even if he had the proper words to use, they couldn't begin to fill the hole the death of her child had made.

"At his funeral, the sniper killed Rick." She picked at her thumbnail, warm tears splashing down onto her hands, and she sniffed.

"Jesus."

She lifted her head. "I became an alcoholic. I couldn't...get over what happened to them, and I couldn't track down the sniper. I tried for two years to find something that would lead me to him, but there wasn't anything." The more she spoke, the deeper her voice became, and she couldn't breathe, but she had to keep talking. He had to know the whole story. "I think I was trying to drink away the pain and the anger and maybe even the entire world. As time went on, I needed to...numb myself more and more, and it got to the point that I couldn't make it through the day without a drink. I almost lost my job."

He peeked at her but reminded quiet.

"I went to a bar for one final drink." She looked at him. "I met you, and... Well, you know what happened."

He couldn't breath, his lungs clenched as though she had reached into his chest and was squeezing them. He didn't know Sam, but that was Sophia's older half-brother. A brother she didn't know she had. A brother she wouldn't get to know. A brother who had to die for her to even be born. If Sam was alive and well, Sophia would never have been born. The best part of his life, the part that made all of his decisions make sense and have meaning, was only given life because of the tragic and brutal murder of a child. Of her brother. While he was happy to hold her and love her and watch her grow, Carol was drowning in the despair of losing two children. While he was wishing her the worst and his resentment grew, she was enduring more agony that he would ever know. All of his thoughts, all of his remarks, every last one of them were so cruel, so terrible. _He_ had been so terrible. And while none of what he wished compared to her actual pain, she didn't deserve it. She was a person with reasons, and he was an asshole who didn't know. That didn't excuse him. He should have known better.

"The sniper would have come for her, and my only option was to give her up to keep her safe. And he'll come again for you and for her, so I need to all the information I can get on him. I need to meet with the man who mentored you, because if I lose the sniper, I'll lose my daughter and you and possibility Caesar and his family before he comes for me. By that point, I don't know how stable I would be, and I might die trying to take him down." She shook her head and corrected herself, "No, that's not true. We would both die. I'd kill him if it was the last thing I did."

"Carol—"

"I need your help," she interrupted him. "And I know you want Sophia safe. This is how we do it. Once I know she's safe, we can talk about our situation. Until then she is not my daughter; she's just yours." If she was Carol's daughter right now, she'd be a target. So it was better for all of them if she was just his kid. For now.

He nodded. "I understand."

"So, you'll introduce me to the man who trained you?"

"I can't."

"What? Why not?"

"He died a couple years ago."

"No." She slipped off the couch and stumbled toward the kitchen. "No, no no. Damn it! He was the only person I could work with to find this asshole!"

"No, he isn't." Daryl went after her and caught her hand, pulling her toward him, and he set his other hand on her shoulder. "I know someone that can help us."

She lifted her eyes to his. "Us?"

"Yeah, us. Did you think I was gonna let you do this alone? After all we went through to get Sophia back safe? Hell no."

"Daryl, you can't be involved in this."

"I am involved in this. I involved myself in this years ago. I just didn't know it until now. I am going to stand by you through this. You ain't getting rid of me."

"I managed to once."

"And never again. We're going to find this guy. We'll find him, and he'll pay for his crimes, okay?"

She searched his eyes. "Okay."

"Yafim might be dead, but I know people."

"People? Daryl, I'm still a cop. I can't go to Michonne with "people"."

"No, but we can. I still got my men, and we'll go to these people. We'll get the information you need, and we'll hunt him down. You have your team of cops, and you have us too." She gave him a heedful look. "It'll work. Double the people, and half of 'em are willin' to do whatever it takes to get information."

"That isn't comforting. I don't want you or your men to kill people or torture people."

"I don't permit killin'. I never have." He locked eyes with her. "We'll talk and bargain for what we need. You have my word."

"And you have my word that Sophia will make it out of this alive."

"We all will," he corrected.

"I can't—"

"We all will," he repeated. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"You don't have a choice. I'm in danger right now, Daryl. There's nothing you can do about it. You can't stop a bullet."

"No, but I can help you find him before he tries to kill you. Or anyone else. I'll go talk to the others, and we'll met you tomorrow morning before you have to get to work."

"All right, but we'll have to meet somewhere secure."

"I know a place. We'll meet there, and we'll take him down. With all of us in this, there's not a chance in hell he'll slip by. You don't have to do this alone."

"I know. And I'm not in this alone. I have Michonne and Caesar and everybody I work with." She smiled a little and squeezed his hand. "And now I have your team."

He smiled back. "I'll write down the directions."

"I'll get a notepad."

––

Through the scope of his gun, he saw the former Archer and Williams talking. By the tears in her eyes, it was about the boy and his father. She was still distraught. She was still mourning. She was still trying to hunt him down. He was pleased to see it.

As he watched the two of them converse, he found it curious. The Archer took her hand, and he hadn't let go out of it. His hand on her shoulder moved, but not the other. She didn't seem bothered by it, and he wondered if they were together. He assumed Andrew's vulgar comments were nothing more than his tiny brain producing pervert thoughts so he could busy himself when alone. He might have been right. That felt wrong to even think, but from the how these two were acting and how they moved around each other, they might be. Or they were in the past.

He smirked. This was the father now. The child was theirs. He thought he would need to see the girl himself, but Williams had been kind enough to simplify his job. Not only had she confessed to being pregnant, but she had even showed him the father. This time the father wouldn't die by coincidence. He would kill him and the girl. But not now. Things were looking up for her, and he couldn't take that away just yet. It wasn't sweet enough, but it would be soon.

He took a drink of coffee, setting it down on the end table, and he glanced behind him. He rose and tended to the bodies of the couple that lived in this apartment. He wasn't a professional at disposing of bodies, but it wasn't hard to do. It was worth it. After all they had such a killer view.


	21. Do It For Her

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

––

 _Rosita entered the house, it was so silent that she could hear her boots on the wooden floors, and she continued to the den. It where the boys likely were. Abraham had to make a call to his kids, to check in on them, and she had a mission of her own to complete._

 _She still felt the guilt of breaking her word to Carol and hurting her fresh in her chest, but she had to believe this was best for the baby. She had to believe it was best for everyone. She didn't know the plan for this little nugget, but she suspected Carol didn't either. Adoption couldn't be the best plan. Daryl was a good man, and he would be a good father. Rosita would be here for him, and she would be here to ensure this all worked out. She had a big family, and she knew about babies, so this little one would be all right. She gave her word to Carol that this baby would be safe, and it would be, just not in the way Carol imagined._

 _She stepped into the den where Daryl and Merle were waiting, and she stopped. Merle was spread out on the couch as always, looking over something, and Daryl was pacing the room. He wore the same blue shirt and black jeans that he had on yesterday. He didn't get any sleep, did he? Oh well._

 _Daryl halted at the sight of Rosita in the doorway, and his eyes moved down the carrier. He lowered his arms, an unusual feeling settling inside of him, and he bent down. He looked over his daughter, taking in her light skin and how she slept. She was beautiful and tiny. She looked more like whoever her mother was asleep._

 _"Could I hold her?" he whispered, rising._

 _"Of course." Rosita gently set the carrier down and freed the small infant from the buckles. She carefully handed her to him. "Support her head. Yeah." She stepped back._

 _Daryl held her close to his chest, just watching her, somehow disbelieving this moment was real. For some reason he found himself swaying gently side to side, something inside of him making him do so when the infant began to wake from being picked up and handed over. He felt a burning in the back of his eyes, but he didn't try to blink it back. He didn't feel the need to. He just smiled and felt the burning spread across his face. "Sophia," he whispered to no one in particular._

 _Rosita nodded. She would handle the birth certificate. It was better that way._

 _"Sophia Anne," he added. That was her name. That was who she was. Sophia Anne Dixon, his daughter._

 _Sophia yawned, opening her eyes._

 _Rosita smiled. "I think she likes the name too."_

 _Merle looked at the child for the first time since Rosita brought her in, and he saw the look on his brother's face. He had never seen a look like that on Daryl's face before, and he knew what would have to happen. He had been discussing it with the others and Rosita for a week now, and this confirmed what he suspected. It also confirmed that no matter how angry he pretended to be about the kid, he knew he was just as happy as Daryl was. He was an uncle. Hell, he never thought that'd happen. He didn't think a lot of things would happen, but they had, and they were for the best. This would be best for everyone as well._

 _He swung off the couch and looked at his niece. "Huh."_

 _"What?" Daryl looked at his brother._

 _"Nothin', just glad she didn't get your nose."_

 _Rosita smiled and noted Merle's nod. "Go take her into the nursery. I'll go get the bags from the car."_

 _Merle waited until Daryl left to speak. "We'll talk to the guys tonight. All over his duties are mine now. I know it's what he wants."_

 _"I'll arrange a meeting. Abraham will be in tonight. Family business."_

 _"All right. Thank you, for bein' there."_

 _"I had to."_

 _"Well, that's that. Let's get back to work."_

 _She nodded and headed to the car, spotting Daryl in the nursery with Sophia. She wondered for a moment if he knew, but she shrugged it off. He couldn't have known. It was just a coincidence. She hoped he never found out, and she hoped Carol never found out. She didn't want to see the day they met, knowing exactly who the other was._

– – –

Daryl handed Carol a cup of coffee, sitting beside her, and he looked at his men. Abe, Oscar, and Axel. The second they heard Sophia was in danger, they all came running. Daryl wouldn't let Noah be involved, but he was calling to try and help out. Daryl felt bad, but it had to be done. He wouldn't have him be killed or worse, because he stuck his nose into something he couldn't get out of. These three knew the risks, have been in this world for more than a couple years and had the skill—or some skills—to survive; Noah didn't. He had paid of his debt and then some. It was time for Noah to live his own life.

"So, why are we meeting in your kitchen?" Carol asked Axel, curling her fingers around the painted mug.

"You said secure," he answered. "And it's the only one with enough space."

"And it's the only place I can meet with you." Rosita took her seat. "And you'll need me."

"Why do we need you?" Carol inquired, lifting her cup to her mouth. "He isn't on the grid."

"I do more than computer work." Rosita crossed her legs. "And I owe you this."

She lowered her cup, swallowing coffee. "I'm not angry with you."

"I know you're not, but what I did to you was wrong, and this is how I make it right."

"Fine, but whatever guilt you have isn't because of me." She heard a knock on the door and went to answer it.

"Who is that?" Oscar looked at Daryl. "I thought it was just us."

"I thought so too." He leaned back to see who Carol had brought in.

Carol returned to the kitchen with Caesar behind her, and she could tell they were on the verge of a fight breaking out. "This is Caesar Martinez. I believe you three already know him."

"What the hell?" Daryl was out of his chair. "Carol—"

"I already know the risks," Caesar interrupted. "And I know my niece is in danger. I'm in this as much as any of you, and I won't back down. I'm here, and nothing any of you say will be keep me away."

Daryl huffed. "We need to keep this a small group."

"And one more isn't gonna kill you."

Carol met Daryl's eyes. "He's family, and I'm with him on this. He's just as good as any of your men, and I won't keep him in the dark, not again. Besides he has family at risk too. A wife and child to be exact."

He returned to his seat. "Fine, but we're out of chairs."

"I prefer to stand anyway." He leaned against the counter behind Rosita.

Carol folded her arms. "We need to keep this brief. Caesar and I have to be at the station soon. I need as much information on the sniper as you can gather, and we don't have a lot of time. Less than seventy-two hours. I know how he works and how he can vanish in the blink of an eye, and it's only a matter of time before he strikes and disappears into the wind."

"I'll be with Sophia," Abe told the group. "I have military experience, and I have a safe house. I'll protect her with my life. You don't need to worry about her."

"Where is she now?"

"With a friend of mine. He's home schooling her at the safe house."

"Okay." She rubbed her palms together. "Axel?"

"Oscar and I are going to a few places this evening. There are a lot of people shaken by the loss of power, and a lot of them trying to raise themselves up. We should be able to persuade them with information on their competition and with what we have left."

She nodded. "Good. What about you, Rosita?"

"I'm going to call a friend of mine, see if I can find out anything on the sniper's childhood. I'll continue to work on that until I find what I need. What you found helps with that."

"What did you find?" Daryl glanced from Carol to Rosita.

"We can't comment on that just yet," Caesar spoke for Carol.

Daryl scoffed.

"What will you be doing?" Carol changed the subject. "Daryl?"

"I'm going to my brother's contacts. They make...gifts for us, and they made things for Phillip's pet too. They might know something, and I still have funds to bribe them with."

"What? I thought we got all lf your accounts."

"I'm not stupid, and I know how to hide things." He rose from his chair. "Meetin' is over.

Axel departed with Oscar, Rosita and Abe headed out together, and Caesar waited for Carol to finish her call with Michonne. He could tell Daryl didn't like him, and Caesar wasn't fond of Daryl for all he put Carol through, and what he didn't know he'd put Carol through. He knew now, Caesar was sure, but that didn't excuse what he did. He was just an asshole to Caesar and that opinion wouldn't change unless Daryl proved himself to be more.

"We should go." Carol stuffed her phone into her pocket. "Michonne wants to talk to us."

"I'll drive." Caesar pushed off the wall.

"I'll talk to you later, Daryl."

"You won't actually." He adjusted the sleeve to his leather jacket.

Carol stopped. "What?"

"Didn't know you were so fond of me," he teased.

"What would keep you from coming back?"

"The people I gotta see. If things go wrong, I won't be back. If they go right, I can't risk coming back too soon. They might think I'm trying to turn them in, and I'll need time to convince otherwise. Then I'll need time to lose 'em, but when I do...I'll call you on a burner phone."

"Daryl, if it's that risky then don't bother."

"I have to. She's our daughter, and I'll do what I have to do to keep her safe. I'll be fine, just letting you know I might not be back tomorrow or the day after."

"I don't like this."

"Neither do I, but it's for the best. I'll call."

"Soon."

He nodded and exited the house.

"You okay?" Caesar stood beside her.

"Gotta be." She met his eyes. "We shouldn't keep Michonne waiting. She'll get suspicious."

Caesar drove to the station, finding Michonne and the others in the middle of a meeting with a profiler. Carol knew this man. His name was Tobin, and he was good. He was just the man they might need if they didn't already know this killer. She just needed to know how to find him, not how to get into his head. She had been there before, and she would go there again to find him. If that's what it took.

"Williams, Martinez." Michonne introduced them to Tobin, though Carol knew him through a different case. "This is Tobin Reynolds."

"FBI, right?" Carol shook his hand.

He smiled. "It's good to see you again, Williams."

"You two have met before?" Caesar looked from Tobin to Carol.

"Yes, we have. It was a long time ago." She took a drink of her coffee. "So, what brings you here?"

"The sniper brings me here."

"Oh? Well, good. We need someone like you around here. Am I right to assume you've been debriefed?" He nodded. "Good. I have something I want to show you then."

"Caesar, I need to speak with you," Michonne said behind Carol. "It pertains to a different case."

"Yes, ma'am." He knew what and _who_ it was about.

Carol led Tobin toward her desk, watching Michonne and Caesar head into her office, and she knew it was serious when Michonne closed the blinds. She cleared her throat and dug out the folder from her desk, setting her coffee down to flip through it.

"How are you taking this?" Tobin met her eyes.

"As well as I can."

"You just went through hell, and now this?" He shook his head. "I can't promise we'll find him, but I'll do my best."

"I don't expect you to work miracles."

"I know, but I won't let you down with this."

She smiled a little and locked eyes with him. "You didn't let me down before either, Tobin." She slid the picture of the engraved rifle over to him. "Now let's focus on the present."

"All right." He picked up the picture. "Does this mean Ed or E.D.?"

"No idea, but it's a start."

"And there were no finger prints?"

"I'm starting to think he might not have any," Carol told him with little hesitation.

"What makes you think that?"

"All of those guns— _his_ guns—and not a single one has finger prints? He couldn't have known the NYPD were coming to save me and the others to wipe all of them down. And I doubt he cleaned them after every job. Most of them hadn't been used, they were more like decoration than anything."

"It's a possibility."

"I wouldn't put it past him." She sipped her coffee and noticed her notification light on her phone was blinking. "Excuse me." She grabbed it and stepped toward the corner, playing the message that was left. It was from Daryl, only it was extremely distorted. She wasn't sure it was done purposefully or not, but she would need Rosita to make sense of it. Or she would need to use her other phone. That's what this could have meant.

"Something wrong?" Tobin looked over the file she'd left open.

"No, nothing. I just need to use the bathroom. I think one of my wounds reopened. Just give me on minute."

In the safety of the bathroom, Carol sent a message to the burner phone Rosita had purchased for him from the burner phone Daryl had given Carol. There were no new messages on her extra phone, so she would need Rosita. They would meet later. Carol would need a bit more time to prepare her statement to Michonne on Rosita. She had thought a lot about what to say, and honesty was the only thing that would work. Carol was going to be honest with Michonne, and she could only hope that was enough to save Rosita. She wasn't entirely sure Michonne bought her story about Merle and Daryl, but she had to keep calm and play as though those were the actual events. Carol could sell stories quite well, having polished her skills over the years with Sam and when she was younger and she had to talk her way out of trouble. Most children read stories, but Carol told them—to comfort herself and to escape sticky situations.

Slipping the burner phone back into her boot, she exited the stall and returned to her desk. She spoke with Tobin, her eyes on Michonne's closed blinds, and she worried how well or how poorly Caesar was doing. He was good when it came to bullets flying and talking a criminal down, but when it came to lying for a friend, he didn't do so well. He had tells when he was lying, and Michonne would pick up on them. She was a intimidating woman, and lying to her wasn't simple, especially when you're friends with her, but Carol owed Rosita this one last favor. Carol would just do it her way. After spending the past few days playing by other peoples' rules, she had to do this her way. It was the only way she could see that would actually help Rosita.

"I'd like to come by tonight," Tobin stated.

"Come by?" Her eyes narrowed. "My apartment?"

"Yes. You have copies of his cases, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

He nodded. "I'd like to review them with you. Two sets of eyes work better than one any day. And mine will be fresh."

"I'd like that." She smiled. "Why don't you come by around seven?"

"All right."

Carol looked over his shoulder as Michonne and Caesar finished up, and she was stunned to see how calm and collected Caesar looked. She folded her arms and followed him when he passed her, and she asked him how he was, handing him the file Tobin had been flicking through.

"Have we learned anything new?" Caesar accepted the file.

"Just that sniper may have burned off his fingertips."

"Hmm." He smirked. "Just when I thought the asshole couldn't get any creepier."

"Are you okay, Caesar?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine. You seem..." She shook her head. "Never mind. I need to speak to Denise. Do you want to come with me?"

"Take Tobin. I have some phone calls to make."

She nodded and walked away, glancing back only once. She shook the feeling inside of her and headed down to the morgue to see Denise with Tobin. The file she needed, she didn't want sent to her. She wanted the hard copy, or at least a copy of the hard copy. She hadn't touched that file, not once, but she had no choice now. They had to look at all his victims, including Sam and Rick.

– – –

"How are you holding up?" Carol picked at her dinner, leaning against the counter. She hadn't had much of an appetite since she started reading over the files. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to swallow coffee in the morning. Her stomach was a massive knot.

"I'm okay. Carl...has a lot of questions about it, but he's okay."

"You sound tired."

"That's because I haven't been sleeping."

"Judy?"

"No. No, she sleeps like a horse." She released a brief chuckle. "Just like her dad."

"It's hard on all of us. This case...has been with us for years."

"Are you sleeping?"

"I have brief moments of blacking out and waking up about ten minutes later. Does that count?"

"Sounds better than me."

"How is Shane taking this? Rick was his best friend, and he always regretted not being there for Sam more."

"He's holding it together for the kids and for me, but I know he's not doing much better than me or you. He showers longer than he normally does, and the bags under his eyes can own property." She rubbed the back of her neck. "It feels like years have passed instead of weeks."

"It feels like that for me too. I keep...dreaming about that day. I don't know if I'm trying to find something new or if my mind is just torturing me."

"If you need to, you can come down and spend some time with us. Carl's been asking if we can go visit Rick's grave. Sam's too." She fell silent for a moment. "I think he'd liked to see you. He'd been asking about Sam, and...he should hear about him from you. Besides I think their flowers need freshening."

Carol drew in a quick, deep breath. "I don't know if I can."

"I think it'd do you some good. You haven't been out there since the funeral. I don't want to pressure you. Come only if you want. We're going this Tuesday at noon. You can join us there or at the house. That's if you can make it."

"I'll try, but I can't promise anything."

"Well, I have to go. Judith's fussing. Um, I hope to see you soon. I love you, Carol, and I'm here for you."

"Thank you. I love you too, Lori. And I'm just a phone call away. Bye." She set the phone on the counter and picked up her plate to put it in the microwave.

"I'll take that." Caesar caught the plate. "I'm starving."

"How can you eat?"

"I have to keep my strength up. If I want to catch this motherfucker, I need to be agile and ready to pounce. And don't you know that I've always been a stress eater?" She smirked. "You should try to eat something. Toast, even."

"I'm not hungry." She lowered her hands from the plate and found a seat in the living room, looking over the information Rosita had sent in. She rubbed the back of her neck. "Daryl hasn't checked in."

"I'm sure he's fine." Caesar sat across her on the floor and continued to look over the file of Betsy Johnson.

"It's been three weeks, Caesar. He was supposed to check in the day after he went to those men. It's three weeks later and not a peep. If Abraham knows anything, he won't tell me. Oscar and Axel only check in with Rosita, and Ryan didn't come down to see me like he'd planned to two weeks ago."

"Carol, calm down. Ryan had to finish a few things at work, and Mika had to get her tonsils taken out. You know how he gets. He turns into a mother hen and practically suffocates them into being better. He's been that way for a long time." He then added, "He'll call you soon, I'm sure of it."

She groaned. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just...worried about everybody I have a connection to." She picked up her laptop. "Tobin will be by in an hour. He's trying to get information out of Phillip."

"Tobin's good. He may get something out of him."

"Let's hope he does."

"Tobin's been by a lot lately," Caesar mentioned.

"Yeah, he... He feels bad." She shifted in the armchair, scrolling through the pictures she'd scanned from the case files.

"I don't think that's why he keeps coming around."

She moved her eyes from the screen to his face. "How old are you again?"

"It's just an observation."

"An incorrect one." She closed her computer and leaned toward him. "He worked with me on the sniper's case—the very first one assigned to me. It was a long time ago, but I'm pretty sure Tobin had a chance to kill him. We were in a parking garage, and he was...hunting. I don't know who for, but Tobin didn't take the shot. He feels that it was his fault I lost Sam and Rick. That's it."

"Carol, that might be some of the reason but not the _entire_ reason. He's trying to impress you."

"Why do you say that like it's impossible to do?" She glared.

"Because it is."

She rolled her eyes. "I have to call Michonne. You can continue to speak nonsense, all I ask is that you do it softly."

"He likes you," Caesar teased. "His threatening Phillip for answers is like bringing you flowers!"

"I hate flowers," she called back.

He chuckled and returned to his work. Carol held her home phone close to her chest, looking back down the hall where Caesar was, and she thought about what he said for a moment. She then pushed it out of her mind and called Michonne, because even if he did have feelings for her, she had none for him. At this point in her life and in the investigation she couldn't afford to have feelings for anybody.

– – –

"So, we can connect all of these people to him?" Michonne ran her eyes over the many faces taped to the white board Tobin had brought in.

"Yes." Carol handed her the report Caesar had handed her from Tobin. "Almost every rifle we found can be linked to all of these people."

"Almost?" She looked over the file.

"We have ten women who were killed with the same weapon, but that weapon wasn't found in the sniper's armory. We can only speculate, but my money is on him carrying it on his person right now."

"It's good work." Michonne offered her a small smile. "And I hear Tobin is getting somewhere with Phillip."

"Yes, I've heard so too. He should be in soon to report." She hugged her arms.

"Why don't you take a break?" Michonne suggested. "Have lunch and then come back. It'll do you good."

"I'm not hungry."

"You've barely eaten in weeks. Caesar's gained weight from all the food you've given to him. And if you lose anymore weight, you'll blow away on the breeze."

Carol chuckled and started to reject her once more when she saw Ryan and Mika entering the station from the corner of her eye. "On second thought, you're right. I do need to eat something. I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

"Take half an hour."

"Okay." She met Ryan halfway and embraced both him and Mika as a greeting. "What brings you here? And why didn't you call first? We could have met at my place."

"I need to talk to you." He was pale, and his tone was solemn. "In private."

"There's a cafe down the street. It's closed today, but I know the owner. He'll let us talk there."

Five minutes later, they were sitting by the window at Carol's favorite cafe, the owner having to open as people had noticed the lights on. Carol apologized, but he said he was fine. He liked having the distraction today. He was a sweet man, but Carol could tell he had a lot of demons. Sadly not ones she could chase down.

"You come here a lot." He noted the conversation Carol had with the owner.

"I probably keep him in business." She smiled to herself, brushing her thumb over the Jones Cafe logo.

He chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He took a drink of his coffee and swallowed hard. Mika was playing with a doll she'd brought with her. She was a table behind them, right in Ryan's view, and Carol could hear her every whisper. She always became hyper aware when children were involved, and Mika was dear to her. She kept her guard up, although she didn't feel him around. She felt well enough to sit by the window and enjoy coffee with a friend.

"What did you want to talk about?" She locked eyes with him.

"I was supposed to come down two weeks ago. I'm sorry I couldn't make it. Work—"

"It's okay, Ryan. I understand that you have other things in your life. You let me know when you could, and it's fine. There's no harm done." She set her hand over his, her thumb brushed across his knuckles, and she smiled at him, small but warm. "You don't need to feel guilty."

He nodded. "I have a request. It's...pretty big."

"What is it? I'll do what I can to help."

"I need you to adopt Mika."

Her hand fell to the table, her mouth opened enough for small uhs to escape, and her brows met as her eyes narrowed. She shook her head, lifting her hand to ask him to wait so she could get a handle on his request. "W—why would you need me to adopt your daughter?" She spoke low, not wanting Mika to overhear.

"I can't be her father right now."

"What the hell does that mean?" she hissed.

"I want to be her father," he corrected. "I want to be in her life and be with her, but I can't."

"Why not, Ryan?"

"Lizzie's condition...is worse than I thought."

"What does that mean exactly? I need more answers than you're giving me."

"When you met her, I know you felt it. I saw it in your eyes. You couldn't mask it in time." He searched her eyes. "You weren't wrong, Carol."

"She's just a little girl."

"That's what I thought. That was my excuse for years." Tears sprung up in his eyes weary eyes. "Then I found the neighbor's dog...in our backyard. She had...taken one of the kitchen knives. It'd been missing for weeks. I thought I accidentally threw it away..."

"What did she do to the dog?" Carol whispered.

"Dissected it. Her wording was, "I was just having fun"." He covered his mouth with his hand, a choked sob escaping, and his shoulders shook. Carol grasped his other hand, and he managed to regain himself. "There were other animals buried back there, Carol."

"God, Ryan, I am so sorry."

"I need to do all I can to help her," he continued. "And I don't want Mika to feel left out. I can't be there for both of them the way I need to be. It breaks my heart to even ask you this, but you're the only person I trust with her. I know you will raise her like your own and love her unconditionally. She needs that."

"Ryan, I love you and your girls like family, but I can't."

"Please. I need you, Carol. Mika needs you."

She gazed over her shoulder at Mika. The young girl was lost in playing, but Carol could see the difference four weeks had brought. She wasn't as happy as she had been when she and Ryan and her sister came to visit her for the first time in years. She seemed to be more distracting herself than playing. Lord only knows what that child endured. She understood now why Ryan didn't leave them alone, and for him to even consider this, Lizzie must have done something to her. Or was about to do something to her.

Nevertheless Carol couldn't take in that sweet little angel. She had lost one child to the sniper, and she wouldn't lost Mika to him. She was closer to finding him, but with how slick that bastard was that didn't mean much. If he saw Mika around, he would kill her without blinking. Carol couldn't let that happen. Not one more person would lose their life to him. But if she didn't do this, Mika still might meet a bitter fate.

Mika lifted her head when she felt eyes on her, and she smiled widely at her father and Carol, waving and making her doll wave as well.

Carol weakly waved back and turned her gaze to Ryan. "I'm not agreeing, but how would this work?"

"I have her bags in the car, and I'll help her settle in. I've already filled out the proper paper work, and she's in the schooling system down here. All you have to do is sign." He cleared his throat. "I'll call her nightly, to check in and let her know how much I love her and how this...is for the best."

"Can't I just watch her? I don't have to adopt her."

"I don't know how long this will be. And I don't want her to miss out on anything, because I couldn't sign a paper in time or meet the principal or whatever her legal guardian needed to do. Or if she needs medical attention." He gripped his cup and shook his head. "I wouldn't do this unless I had no choice, Carol. She's my...my little girl, and it kills me that it has to come to this, but...as her father, I _have to do what is right for her._ This is the most difficult decision of my life in regards to Mika, but it is right."

She sighed. "You're adamant."

"I am."

"What about grandparents? Or your siblings?"

"My parents are dead, and so are Christa's. My brother can't even hold down a job." He exhaled. "Christa was an only child."

She closed her eyes. "Shit."

"You're the only person I can turn to."

"Caesar."

"He has Keira and Andrea. They would be good to her. Hell, they'd be great to her, but their child would always come first. With you, I know Mika will be first no matter what happens, and she needs that love and attention right now. I know you work a lot, and she understands why, but knowing you're coming home and you'll be there when she wakes up...will be everything. She wakes to a babysitter with me. A babysitter who put her in the hospital, because she didn't listen to me when I said she couldn't eat kiwi."

She leaned back in her chair. "I'll need time to think about this."

He nodded. "We'll be in town until ten."

"What if I say no? What'll you do?"

"What I can, but...she'll suffer for it." He swallowed hard. "I know Mika won't think badly of me. She's a good kid. She'll know I'm doing all I can for her and her sister. She'll know this isn't some means of getting rid of her. She won't hate me this way, but if I raise her while trying to help Lizzie, while putting all of my money and time into Lizzie, she may grow to resent me. To feel neglected and isolated. She'll change completely from the person she's meant to become, and I don't want that to happen. That's why _I need you_ to do this. For her and her future. Please, please, think about it."

"I have to get back to work, but I'll call you with my final decision."

"Please, consider it."

"Okay." She ordered a coffee to go.

"Carol?" Mika hugged her doll to her chest.

"Yeah?" She bent down to be at eye level.

"Could I have a cookie?" She pointed to one in the case.

She smiled. "Peanut butter or chocolate chip?"

"Peanut butter." She smiled back.

"My favorite," Carol whispered like it was a secret.

"Mine too," Mika muttered back.

She straightened when Jenny handed her the cup. "Hey, could I have two peanut butter cookies, please?"

"Of course." She placed two on a plate and handed it to Carol.

"Thank you. Add it to my tab. I'll be in to pay it tomorrow."

She nodded. "Have a nice day."

"You too." She gave the plate to Mika. "I have to get back to work, but I'll talk to you later."

She nodded. "Be careful."

She rubbed her arm and left the cafe, giving a nod to Ryan as goodbye.

––

Williams left the cafe with a coffee, leaving behind the man and child she had entered with, and it was interesting. Their conversation wasn't one you hear every day. Or read, as he didn't dare get near them. He made sure to keep his distance, because if he could feel her, she could feel him.

The child wasn't anything he wanted to kill. Sure, she was sweet and near to Williams' heart, but she wasn't the child he wanted. He would leave her be, but her father. Now that was the part that piqued his interest. He was willing to give up a child to protect her, very like Williams had done. He didn't have the same feel as Williams, but it would be satisfying. His death would bring more grief to her than the child's death. He had backed her into a corner she didn't want to be in, and he admired that. Perhaps all she needed was a little push.

– – –

"Where the hell is Tobin?" Carol nibbled on a piece of garlic bread from Caesar's dinner. "He was supposed to be here hours ago."

"It's a long drive."

"Or maybe the sniper knows we're onto him." Carol wiped her fingertips on a napkin. "Maybe he took out Tobin."

"He just sent Michonne an update. Calm down. Eat. You're having hunger induced paranoia."

"I am not." She sat beside him. "Andrea made that for you."

"That didn't stop you from eating the garlic bread." He slid the plastic container over to her. "I'm not hungry."

"Thanks."

"So, I heard Ryan stopped by."

"Him and Mika." She began to eat his dinner, not wanting to talk about what happened.

"Why?"

She shrugged.

He pursed his lips. "So Ryan didn't ask you to adopt Mika, because Lizzie was exhibiting signs of—"

"How?" she interrupted him.

"Ryan called me."

"Of course he did."

"What are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know."

"I'd say yes."

"It's not that simple, Caesar."

"Actually it is, Carol." He moved so he could meet her eyes. "You cannot keep putting your life on hold, because of the sniper. That's what he wants—to break you and leave you utterly alone. You can't let him do this. I know you're terrified, but we are going to find him. The best way to unravel him is to show him he has no power over you. All you've done is shown him how much power he has."

"You don't know—"

"I know you love Mika and Lizzie and Sophia. I know you love them all so much that you have to push them away to keep them safe. It kills you to even see them." His jaw clenched. "Carol, you need to take this child in. Not to get back at the sniper, no. No, you need to do this for you. And for her. You know more than anyone how much this grieves Ryan, and he chose you. You know exactly why, and to say no...to take away the last bit of hope he has left because of your fear is bullshit."

"My fear has a name—and a rifle."

"No, that's your excuse. Your fear is letting people in. You've shut the world out since Sam died. Lucky for me, I made it in before Sam, but Keira? Mika? Daryl? You would die for them, but you wouldn't dare let them close to you."

Her eyes burned into his, but she said nothing. Her blue eyes were shiny under the lights in the lounge, reddening at tears that didn't fall.

"And you'll turn him down not because you're scared of loving another child as much as you loved Sam, but because you'll have to know everything about them, and they'll want to know everything about you and your past. You'll have to open yourself up to all of that pain, and you don't want to. Sure, you can talk about Sam's death, but can you talk _about him_? Can you tell me about him right now over lunch?"

"Stop."

"What's his favorite color? He had two, but I can never remember which one he liked just a tad more."

"Caesar—"

"It was blue, right? Like the race cars he used to have. He loved those. Rick gave them to him on his fifth birthday, and they made it all the way—"

"Would you just stop?" She shot up, her chair knocking over from the swift moment, and she glowered at the man beside her. "What's the point of this?"

"You know the point of this. You just refuse to see it." He left the lounge, shaking his head.

She blinked hard, wrapping her arms around herself, and she scoffed.

– – –

Caesar unlocked the door and found Keira and Andrea curled up on the sofa, the cat nestled on Andrea's thigh, and he smiled. He closed the door and tossed his jacket and keys into the armchair. He removed his shoes and crept over to the couch, kneeling down beside them. He set a hand on Andrea's cheek and brushed a curl from her face to rouse her.

Her eyes opened. "You're just getting in?"

He nodded.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly two."

"In the morning?"

"Yeah. We...ran into a snag." He set his hand on Keira's side. "Let me put her to bed then we can talk."

She carefully removed her arm, Caesar scooped his daughter up and carried her to her bedroom, and Andrea moved the cat to the floor. She checked her watch and rubbed at the corner of her eye. She could sleep for the next six years and still not feel rested. She hoped when this case was put to bed, she would be able to sleep well. She grabbed the blanket from the couch and headed upstairs to their bedroom, where Caesar was undressing.

"What snag did you run into?"

"Phillip Blake got into a fight in the yard." He sat on the bed. "Lost an eye and has internal injuries."

"Christ, how did that happen?"

"I don't know. It was like all hell broke loose. It's just odd that it only broke after Tobin questioned him, so either he had this done to himself or the sniper doesn't like his loose lips."

"Will he survive?"

"Yes."

"Good. That bastard doesn't deserve to die an easy death."

He grasped the blanket she was holding and pulled her to him, encircling her waist. "It wouldn't have been an easy death, but I know what you meant."

"How's Carol?"

"Not talking to me. I—I went to far today, and I need to apologize. I'll do it in the morning. I'm too exhausted now, and I don't think she'd pick up the phone."

She nodded. "Let's get to bed." She kissed the top of his head. "It'll be better in the morning."

"I hope."

– – –

It was nine-forty-five. The darkness of night settled into the city and curled into Carol's apartment, the many boxes neatly stacked against the wall, her laptop resting on her coffee table, and the scent of coffee and soap still lingered in the air from her brisk return to shower and grab some deathly potent coffee.

Her bed was made and hadn't been slept in for days, the alarm clock untouched as she didn't need it to wake her, and her closet door was ajar; the hanger that held her blouse was swaying back and forth like a young mother rocking her newborn to sleep. The TV was cold and hadn't been used in too long, and her jewelry box was gathering dust. She'd worn the same earrings and necklace for the past three weeks.

The plain calendar on her fridge hadn't been turned to the new month, all of her appointments and birthday reminders inked in and crossed out. The space beside it holding a picture of her and Sam. It was an old picture, taken days before his death; however, it was new to the fridge. It had been resting in a paper folder with many others like it for years, but only today made its appearance. The healing process was beginning, the old wounds now able to lick in air and scab over. One step closer to being another scar to her collection.

A reminder note on her counter with two lines: Call Lori and Call the landlord. She would be accompanying the Grimes-Walsh family to the graves of Rick Grimes and Sam Williams. She would bring a toy, but never flowers. She wasn't fond of flowers. They reminded her, too, of funerals. And she would need to call the landlord about rent. She rarely fell behind on such things. This case was taxing, clotting her brain and erasing everything that didn't involve the sniper.

––

Carol snuffled and cleared her throat, calling Ryan to give him her answer. She paced the lounge, her phone ringing, and she stopped when he picked up. "Ryan, hey. It's Carol."

"It's good to hear from you." He hesitated. "You've made up your mind then?"

"Yes. I have."

"Okay."

She put her hand her on her hip, blowing out a sigh to try and calm herself. "Where and when do you want to meet so I can sign the papers?"

* * *

 _ **Happy holidays! I hope you all have an amazing holiday, and may the new year bring great things to you!**_


	22. The Twisted Motivator

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

––

Carol met with Ryan the next morning. Mika was still asleep in their hotel room, so they had coffee and picked up some donuts for her. Carol told Ryan that she was speaking to her landlord about moving out. It was time. When this was over, she would need room for Sophia, and that apartment held too much of the past for there to ever been room for Sophia. And with Mika, she needed even more room. She had Rosita help her find an affordable place with three bedrooms. She was going to take a look at it this afternoon to see if it was the right place for a fresh start. If it was, she'd get Mika moved in and then herself.

"Andrea's going to help me move." She adjusted her sunglasses. "Whether or not this place works out, I need to pack up and be ready to move. There isn't enough room at my place for Mika, and I need a...fresh start."

"If you need help, just let me know."

"I will. Thank you."

"No, thank you. I can't thank you enough for this."

"I wasn't going to say yes," Carol admitted. "I—I didn't want to do this, and part of me still doesn't, but...a dear friend revealed some things to me yesterday. I hate to tell him that. His head's so big it might just crush him in to the ground if I tell him he was right—but he was correct, and I need to do this for many reasons."

"Well, give him my gratitude."

"I will."

Mika was awake when they entered the hotel room. She greeted Carol with a hug, and Carol handed over the donuts and milk. Ryan had spoken to Mika about Carol adopting her, but now they were going to let her know it was a reality. Ryan thought it would be best if they were both there, to assure her and to help her understand this decision.

"I'm going to be living with Carol now?"

"Yes." Ryan searched her eyes. "Do you want to ask us anything?"

She thought for a moment. "Will you really call me before bed every night?"

"I'll do my best to make sure I call," he vowed.

"And Lizzie?"

"She's being tended to," he assured her. "I'll be there with her every step of the way, and as soon as she's...able, you'll see her again. We can...be together again."

"How long will that take?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "But it's good we caught this early. Lizzie will get the help she needs."

"Okay."

"Is that all?" Carol scooted toward her. "You can ask me questions too, sweetie."

"Are you my mom now?"

"I could never replace Christa," Carol replied. "I am your friend. I love you very much, Mika, and I'll always be here for you."

She nodded. "Those are all the questions I have." She lowered her head.

"I'm buying a new home." Carol set her cup on the table. "You'll be able to paint the room however you like and decorate it however you like. From posters to...stickers if you want. It's yours to do whatever with."

She smiled a little. "Really?"

"I promise." She smiled back. "We'll go check it out together, if you want."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

"Okay. I'll come and pick you up at one." It was her lunch break, and she had to use it or Michonne might take her off the case or force feed her applesauce and chicken. From the grocery list Carol caught a glimpse of, that's all Andre ate. Poor kid. She hoped she was wrong. Or that it wasn't complete.

"We shouldn't keep you any longer." Ryan rose and showed her out. "I have to leave to finish some paperwork, but I'll be back to help Mika get settled into the new house."

"If it's as good as its pictures, you can help us move as soon as the day after tomorrow."

"That sounds great. Just give me a call."

"I'm assuming Mika will be with me tonight." He nodded. "Just bring her over at eight. I'll be working at home."

"Have a safe drive."

"You too."

––

"I think you'll love the place," Rosita commented. "Three bedrooms, semi-spacious, and it's in your price range. One and a half bathrooms, and the kitchen was remodeled. It's beautiful. I do my job well."

"You should watch how much you gloat," Carol teased. "Your head will be bigger than Caesar's."

"Is that even possible?"

"I don't think so, but who knows." She looked down at Mika, who was holding her hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking about what color to paint my room." She smiled for Carol's sake.

"Me too."

The place Rosita had found was actually really decent. The rooms weren't massive, but they were spacious enough for the three of them. Carol didn't mind taking the smallest room. The girls were growing, and she liked small spaces. Well, not extremely small places though. This room was on the line of large enough for her claustrophobia to not flare up. And Mika seemed taken with the room down the hall. That left the middle room for Sophia. It was a cute place, and it was a great chance for a fresh start for them. And it didn't have many windows should the sniper try anything. It was secure and close to the school Mika would soon be attending. It needed a bit of TLC but after the sniper business was squared away, it would get just that.

It was an interesting thought, living with her daughter and Mika when this was over. Mika was legally her daughter, so she might want to get used to saying daughters. She couldn't wrap her mind around that. It was truly petrifying to ponder. She went from no children to two, and she had to move and start over in an entirely new home. She had to pack away her tangible memories of Sam and put them in a closet. She couldn't begin to imagine his room not being right down the hall. For the first few weeks without him, she would sleep with one of his pillows, for the scent of him. The scent was long gone, and it wasn't his room anymore. She knew that and had made peace with that, but it felt foreign to begin again.

Honestly with everything that happened these past few weeks it made sense. Mika was the start of change. Good change. She had been stuck in the same headspace for far too long, and she couldn't be that same person anymore. She needed to find what she had buried inside when she lost her children. It was still there, thickly layered in dust but still there. If she was going to have Daryl in her life through Sophia, she needed to be more open to him. After all Daryl was the one Sophia will be more like, having spent all of her life with him, and she knew she could stomach him while being a hostage. On friendly terms, they would get along. She just hoped she got the chance. He hadn't checked in, and she now had a new gray hair because of it.

Shaking her head to push the worry away, she searched for Mika and found her with Rosita. As Carol neared, Rosita left to give them privacy. "So, what do you think?" Carol inquired now that they were alone in the room Mika appeared to have claimed.

"It's okay." Her voice was small, her arms folded in a manner that said she was protecting herself, and she seemed so small. It was evident she and it were not okay.

Carol bent down to look Mika in the eyes. "No. It's not okay." She locked eyes with the young girl. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

"What's wrong is my dad...would rather take care of my sister alone," she strained through clenched teeth. "He'd rather leave me...and try to make Lizzie better by himself."

"He isn't going to be alone, Mika. She'll have doctors and medication. She'll be able to...work through her...illness. He wouldn't leave you unless he had no choice, and he'll check in as often as possible. I know it's not good enough—it'll never been good enough—but we have to try and make this work." She set a hand on her shoulder and turned her to around so they were facing one another. "I know I'm not your mom or even a good friend to you, but give me time and I will be a best friend to you. We can watch movies and stay up late. I can help you with your homework and teach you random cop stuff. You can meet my goddaughter and see her cat. I'll let you use my laptop to video chat with your dad, and you'll have your own private phone line so you two can talk whenever."

Mika's baby blue eyes were welling up at Carol's words, and she snuffled. "Really?"

"We'll make this work," Carol vowed. "I'm going to be here for you, and you'll... you'll be here for me. We're going to rely on each other now, because we're family. Family protects each other, and I will protect you always."

She tackled Carol in a hug, sobbing for many reasons, and Carol held her close. She didn't know how she felt about this situation to be honest. Adopting Mika and raising her was going to be a challenge, but it would be good for her. It would be good for Mika. She would need to work through a lot of issues, but she had already begun that process. Perhaps Mika could assist and smooth the path some. She was a very gentle soul and already made Carol realized just how much she needed to continue on. She had many dreams and a life she needed catching up on. When everything was done and the sniper was locked away—or dead—Carol would have a daughter. And she would have Daryl as well. She needed to figure out how that would work, and maybe Mika could help her find...peace, even in the smallest measurement.

– – –

"I'm sorry I didn't have time to cook." Carol handed Mika a box of takeout. "I was caught up at work, and I didn't know what you'd like."

"It's fine. I like Thai." She smiled and ate a spoonful.

"All the same I intend to make you an amazing welcome dinner of your favorite things," Carol promised. "Just let me know what those are."

She nodded, mouth too full to speak.

"I have a meeting tomorrow morning, but Ryan will be here to help you pack up my things. I'm sorry you have to pack twice."

"I like packing," she murmured, tilting her head. "Going to a new home. It... it means things will be easier for Dad, and I get to know my godmother."

Carol ran her tongue over her teeth. "That it does."

"Besides you don't have a lot of stuff, and maybe we can have lunch."

"I'll try. I'm working on...a very time sensitive case, and it's essential that we catch this man." She drank water from her glass. "Once it's solved, I'll take you out and we'll have a celebratory dinner."

Mika beamed. "I'd like that."

She leaned back on the couch and stirred the contents of her dinner. "I've researched the school you'll be attending. It's one of the best public schools, and I know a teacher there. If you need any help just ask her. I think she'll even be your teacher."

"I'm nervous about starting school."

"Well, I know a kid who's going to the same school, and I'll introduce you guys soon. I know you'll be friends."

"Are they nice?"

"She's really nice. Her name's Sophia. She's...the same age as you." She met Mika's eyes. "I know it'll be rough for the first couple of days, but you'll...get into the swing of things, and it'll get better. Ryan will get situated at his new apartment, and he'll be able to visit you when he can. And in the meantime we'll get to paint the new house and decide where everything goes. It'll be great. I promise."

She inhaled deeply. "I just hope Lizzie will be okay, being alone and having to be around strangers all the time."

"Lizzie's going to be fine. In time they won't be strangers, and you may even be able to see her, talk to her and play with her again. Time flies, and you'll be back with your family soon enough. You won't even know where the time went."

"I don't know."

"I don't know either," Carol confessed. "I haven't had a child in my life for over a decade, and I don't know how to juggle of this. I'll find a way, I always do, but I have a lot of acclimatizing to do. As do you. I know we'll be fine, but...let's just say I have a certain problem I don't want to fall back into."

"Drinking?" Mika guessed, and Carol gaped. "Dad told me. He was worried adopting me might effect your drinking. Or start it again. I want to be on my best behavior so that doesn't happen. I don't want to ruin anything."

"You couldn't, Mika. I'm the only one who can ruin my sobriety. It's just this case and having you—it's setting off a lot of warning bells inside me. It's shaken me, but I'll be fine. I won't give in, and I don't need you to walk on eggshells. We're family, and this is your home. Our new home is your home. Be yourself. I want you to be one hundred percent comfortable."

She was reluctant to nod, but she did anyway, and she meant it. "Okay."

"I do have a few rules."

"So do I."

"Oh, you have rules?" Carol mused. "Please, tell me what they are."

– – –

"You look like death," Caesar remarked, handing her a coffee. "Are you all right?"

"Thank you, Caesar. It's compliments like that that make getting up at five in the morning worth it." She glared and snatched her coffee. "Mika and I talked till one in the morning about rules and the new house. I also reviewed the first case we have on the sniper."

"Oh? And how was it?"

"Revealing. I think I have some information for Tobin whenever he comes in."

"I meant talking with Mika."

"It... it was nice." She smiled around her cup. "It's feels new, and it feels really...good to have someone to go home too."

"I'm happy for you."

"And I'm happy for this coffee."

"Well, it's not getting any cheaper so if you want to start tipping me, or you know paying for the coffee yourself, that would be—"

"Tobin." Carol met him by her desk. "I need to have a word with you when you have a minute."

"Just let me speak to Michonne and I'm all yours." He pointed to her desk. "I brought you a cruller."

"Thank you. I didn't have time to get breakfast."

"I figured." He smiled. "You should take care of yourself better."

"I will when this son of a bitch is behind bars."

He nodded and excused himself to Michonne's office, Caesar came by and poked at the bag filled with two crullers, and Carol glared him off. He acted like a starved dog sometimes, and she knew Andrea had made breakfast for the family before he left. She could smell the omelet on his breath. He also had a bit of bacon grease on his tie, which she wasn't going to point out. She wanted to get him a tie for his birthday, so if that one went to the trash that gave her an opening for the silver tie she purchased a month ago.

Carol spotted Caesar writing on her cards, and she looked over his shoulder then whacked him over the head with the file she was holding. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What? I'm just giving you a preview." He held up the card that now read Carol Reynolds.

"We have a serial sniper on the loose, and you want to make jokes?"

"I have to lighten the mood," he corrected. "You're under more stress than you've ever been under. It's been three weeks of not finding this asshole, and I know how you get."

She sighed. "I appreciate the concern, but knowing you're doing your job to the fullest will do me more good than making childish jokes."

"I am. I'm on hold. It's one of...her leads, and it's pretty solid."

"Okay." She cleared her throat. "And I would never give up my last name."

He smirked. "Been thinking about it?"

"Me and Tobin?" Her brows shot up. "I have too much in my mind as it is. I don't have room for Tobin, let alone the simple thought of having a romantic relationship with anybody. Get back to work."

"It would do you a world of good to consider it."

She tightened her jaw and met his eyes. "Caesar."

"Fine. I'm working." He grabbed a note pad and pen, returning to his call that was still on hold.

She exhaled and saw Tobin exit Michonne's office with Michonne. He excused himself from their conversation and joined Carol, and they began to brainstorm. They had a good chemistry, as if their brains were on the same frequency. She could see why Caesar would suggest it, but she had no interest in him. They were partners, and she didn't want to get mixed up with an out of state FBI agent. He had his reasons for taking on this case, and she knew that. They had nothing to do with her. They were guilt and responsibility. She didn't know why he wouldn't move on, but she respected how much he was putting into the case. Phillip's information, for one.

"Phillip told me he found the sniper in an old warehouse." Carol nodded. "I know a few warehouses that have been torn down and the space built into something new around the area of his first kill."

"We could ask Ro...um..." She hadn't taken time to learn the other woman's name.

Tobin smiled. "I'll speak to her, see what she can dig up on the area."

"I have a question for you." She lifted her eyes to his.

"And that question is?"

"How did you manage to pry open Phillip's lips? He wouldn't say a word to me. I've been meaning to ask, but you never have much time."

"I'd love to tell you," he replied, "but the sooner I speak with Morrison, the sooner we have our results."

She crossed her arms. "I see."

"I'm free at seven, and I can tell you about the interview. I know a good Italian restaurant." A slight blush crossed his cheeks. "Michonne asked me to get you to eat more, and they have good bread."

"Not tonight." She stepped back. "I have dinner plans with my daughter." That felt like glue rolling off her tongue. Daughter? That would take time.

"Oh. I didn't know you had another child."

"I adopted a friend's children recently. He's going through a hard time, and I'm helping out. We're going to be packing and pizza has been chosen for our dinner."

He nodded. "Care to reschedule?"

"Tomorrow night. Eight o' clock. You can meet me at my apartment, and we'll take it from there." She handed him the file and returned to her desk, finding a card poking out from underneath the mouse pad. She lifted it and slipped the gold-color envelope into her pocket.

"And I get shut down, but when Tobin does it you're all for it?" Caesar scoffed.

"It's business."

"Not to him." He pointed to Tobin with his thumb. "It's all pleasure to him, Carol."

She smirked. "Too bad. My pleasure bites."

He narrowed his eyes, and she crossed her legs and watched Tobin converse with Morrison. Caesar knew he wasn't going to get anymore out of her, so he spun around and continue to chisel away at the information Rosita had slipped to him. He wasn't sure how close he was to finding the true identity of the sniper, but he had to keep pressing. If they had his name, they might find a picture or an old address or something from his past. He hoped anyway. It had a high chance of being fruitless as well.

––

"I'll be in at five tomorrow." Carol adjusted the sleeve of her coat. "I think Caesar is getting somewhere in his search."

"As do I." Michonne walked her out. "And you don't have to come in so early."

"I do."

"You have to pack and move, and you can't do that when you're draining yourself here."

"I can manage both. Ryan's helping me, and Andrea as well. I'll be fine."

She shook her head. "Just take care of yourself."

"I always do. Have a good night, ma'am."

"You too."

Carol rubbed the base of her neck as she neared her car, and she saw a woman waiting for her. She frowned and ran her eyes over the woman, but the night veiled her. She approached her, and she saw it was the woman from Daryl's home, the one who had given her the clothes to wear. What was she doing here?

"Did you read your card?" The woman spoke before Carol could.

"No." Her eyes closed to slits. "How do you know I received a card?"

"Just read it, Williams." She smiled. "Have a nice night."

Carol watched her stroll off, and she slipped into her card, pulling the card from her pocket. Flicking on the overhead light, she saw a black crossbow stamped on the other side. Her heart began to race, and she hastily opened the card. Inside was an address and the words "Don't worry about it". It was in Daryl's hand. She had seen the handwriting of all the men who worked with him having worked with them herself now, and she knew Merle couldn't have done this from behind bars, no matter how good he was.

It was a sign: Daryl was still alive. He was letting her know that, and perhaps they were to meet at this address. It didn't give a time, so she called Ryan to make sure Mika wasn't alone. Andrea picked up and let her know Mika was in good hands. She could hear the girls laughing in the background, and it brought a smile to her lips to hear Mika laughing. She thanked Andrea and drove to meet Daryl. She had an earful for him, and he wasn't getting out of it. Unless he discovered valuable information on the sniper of course. Then he would do all the talking.

She was so relieved to know he was all right. She couldn't speak to Sophia, couldn't risk the sniper finding the safe house, so she couldn't let her know her father was all right. She'd tell Axel, and he'd get it to Abe and Sophia. She couldn't wait to hear what kept that bastard from a phone for three weeks. She knew it was a high-risk mission, but honestly she might kill him when she saw him. She didn't like what thoughts were filling her mind, and to not know how capable Daryl was at blending in with men similar to Merle shook her nerves. She didn't want him to die, not in some gruesome, bloody way. Sophia needed him, and Carol didn't want to break the news of his death and then reveal who she was to Sophia. She didn't want to put Sophia through that. He had to come out of this alive, or she was going to kick his dead ass.

Carol didn't know much about Daryl, so she couldn't feel confident in him returning to her and Sophia. She knew how he handled himself when they were held captive, but this was different. He was going into a hazardous environment willingly, with information and money as his only weapons, because if he had actual weapons, they'd torture, maim and display his dead, broken body for everybody to see. Having gone the last three weeks without a peep and only now communicating with her didn't ease her nerves. Something was wrong, but at least his fingers weren't broken. At least not on his writing hand. That had to count for something.

Shit, what if they found out about Daryl and this was a trap? What if they knew he was working with the NYPD to take down the sniper? That would get him killed the minute he stopped being useful to them. And if they were trying to rise from the ashes of the Archer and Governor, killing a cop and the Archer's brother—or Archer to them—would be a good way to do that. She was glad she had her gun with her, and if she was met with twenty or more thugs, she would have to get creative. She could do some damage with a properly placed firecracker. If it came down to that. She was still getting complains from the last time. She saved their lives, and now that their thankful period had ended, they were complaining. They were still human.

––

She arrived at the place, finding it was an apartment building, only fancy and out of her price range. She made her way to the proper apartment and found Rosita waiting outside of it. She slipped the paper into her pocket and greeted her with a cautious smile. Rosita returned it and seemed happy to see Carol.

"What are you doing here?" Carol stopped beside her.

"Daryl sent me a card too." She held it between her index and ring finger. "He wanted me to give you the grand tour of your new home."

"My—my new home?" She stared. "Rosita, I can't afford a place like this."

"Don't worry about it. Daryl's had this place for years, and as of today it's yours and the girls' new home."

"So he's not meeting me?"

"No, the best he could do were these cards." She sighed. "I'm so worried about him I'm seeing him in my dreams. God, I hope he's all right."

"Me as well. Worried, not dreaming about him." She pointed the door. "And no."

"The house you wanted was already sold, and Daryl's arranged movers to move your things in as soon as tomorrow. You don't have any other option. He'll take care of the bills. He's good for it."

"Rosita, this is insanity! It's my life and I should be able to decide where I live!"

"At least see it."

"No, I know it's bound to be beautiful and spacious and perfect for the girls. I don't want to see it."

"Sophia spent time here," she informed Carol. "It'd be nice for her to grow up in a home she's familiar with. You know, in case Daryl doesn't make it out."

"Rosita."

"What? It's true. I'm not trying to guilt trip you. He could die. Do you know dangerous Joe's crew is?"

"Fine! Let's have a look. And once we're done, I want all you have on Joe."

"Carol."

"I'm a good cop, so give me all you have on that scumbag."

"Fine. Allow me to give you the grand tour."

"I can barely contain my excitement." She followed Rosita inside and winced at how much everything must have cost. She didn't want to owe Daryl anything. She was the mother of his child so it made sense that he would do this for her, but she could and would take care of everything herself. She would find a better place that was in her price range and that was comfortable for her and the girls. She didn't want to feel like she was using him, or that this was going to come back to bite her in the ass. Taking handouts wasn't something she was skilled at. She still felt the need to repay people who helped her as a child.

"The girls could have their own rooms, and so can you. Plus that office might look small, but we can fit quite a lot inside." She came off the steps. "And you have no neighbors. Well, downstairs neighbors, but Daryl had a background check run on all of them—they're clean. Expect this old woman who lives with her son and granddaughter. She'll try and recruit the girls for plays and stuff. She's an amazing woman though."

"It's a great place. I can't deny that." She ran her hand across the back of the leather sofa. "And it _would_ be perfect for the girls."

"That doesn't sound like a yes. It's sounds like a complimentary no."

"I don't want to owe anybody anything."

"And you won't!" She groaned. "Carol, Daryl _owes_ this to you! He kidnapped you and put you in harm's way, and while you did agree, you still were beaten and starved and almost murdered. He wants you to have this place as a thank you and an apology. There are no strings attached, and everything is taken care of."

"He doesn't—"

"He feels that he does," Rosita cut her off. "And you need a place to live. It's not him doing you a favor. It's him repaying you."

She leaned against the back of the sofa. "How much did he write in your card?"

"Not a whole lot, but I've known Daryl for years. Besides he had this worked out in case he didn't make it. From before, not this time."

"All right. I'll bring Mika by and see what she thinks. If she says yes, we'll begin moving in as soon as tomorrow."

"Okay. That's all I'm asking for." She was grinning. It was a little kid's paradise. Carol was as good as moved in. "Do you need help packing? I'm free for an hour or so."

"That'd be nice." Carol then frowned. "An hour or so?"

"I'm meeting an old friend of mine. He's good at finding people. He'll be arriving in an hour or so. He'll find a way to let me know."

"He can't just call?"

"No, and that's all I'm saying. You don't want your name mixed with his. It's just better that way. Safer. We don't need both of us under investigation."

"Fair enough."

They left the building and headed to Carol's apartment. Mika was packing up the living room with Keira, and Andrea was wrapping the dishes, and Ryan was packing the pictures. She didn't know where Caesar was, but he had to be here somewhere. It wasn't a big apartment, and she had a good idea where he might be. She left Rosita to help Mika tackle the many books and opened the door to Sam's bedroom.

Caesar was sitting on the bed, holding a stuffed teddy bear that wore a blue shirt and two brown buttons. It was a gift from Gloria to Sam, and it was a beaten up mess. Sam had swallowed one of the buttons, ruined an ear from chewing on it, and it looked like a monster. Carol had spent so much time sewing that thing back together, and he always slept with it, even he pretended he was too old for it.

"Hey." She sat beside him. "You're doing a bad job at packing."

"It's...not as easy as I thought it'd be after all this time," he murmured, a lump in his throat he couldn't clear.

"I know. I'm dreading it, but it has to happen."

"A lot of memories here." He lifted his head. "They just keep coming to me. Hell, even ones I barely remember."

"Like any New Years party we had?"

He laughed. "Yeah, like those."

She exhaled and set a hand on his shoulder. "It'll get better. Once we catch the sniper, it'll get better. It has to."

"I suppose." He set the bear on the bed. "Speaking of, you remember that lead Rosita gave me?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know if it'll help, but I found an address. It's too late to check it out now, but I'm going there with Tobin in the morning. Don't get your hopes."

"I never do." She pursed her lips. "Tobin? Why are you going with Tobin and not me?"

"Because you'll have your face buried in old case files or something Rosita might send you, and I want to see how good Tobin is. I've never been alone with him, and he just apes you so I want to see him on his own."

"He doesn't ape me."

"He really does."

She shook her head and stood up. "I have to take Mika to check out a loft tomorrow so it doesn't matter."

"What loft?"

"Daryl's. He's giving it to me so I can take care of Sophia and Mika. I don't know if I want it. Well, that's a lie—I don't want it. He's persistent, and the place I originally wanted was sold out from under me. It's beautiful and spacious and expensive." She heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose in preparation for the rant Caesar had for her.

"Don't take it! That asshole will just use it against you later."

"And how do you know?"

"He was a drug dealer!" he hissed under his breath, not wanting the others to overhear. "He used people for a living. You can't trust his word. You might have had his kid, but that doesn't mean he cares about you or will want you safe. Don't do it. I'll help you find a place."

"You're stereotyping him, Caesar."

"No, I know men like him. And you don't know him to say otherwise, Carol. A couple days hostage doesn't make you an expert on all things Daryl."

"I don't know him, but I do know he loves Sophia." She faced him. "And Sophia cares for me. He wouldn't do anything to me that could potentially hurt her. That's what I know about Daryl, why I'm even considering moving into that place."

"It'll come back to bite you in the ass."

"Let me worry about that. I haven't made my decision, and I didn't ask for you opinion on Daryl or the loft. I'll pack Sam's room. You should help Andrea with the plates."

He ran a hand down his jaw and started to argue, but he changed his mind and exited the room, not wanting to make this any worse.

Carol closed her eyes and inhaled as deep as her lungs would allow, releasing the air through clenched teeth. She knew this was going to be rough, Daryl and Caesar, but she had hoped Caesar would be more understanding. They were similar in many ways, but it was the differences that drove them apart. He didn't approve of Daryl, because he's the brother of the Archer and used to associate with people Caesar loathed. Yet he approved of Tobin, because he was an FBI agent and associated with people on the right side of the law. He didn't know Daryl or Tobin, but Tobin was automatically better and should be involved in their lives when he had no connection to either of them. Daryl was the father of Carol's daughter; that's what would keep him in their lives—and currently this case. Caesar was going to be an uncle to Sophia once they told her Carol's her mother. Tobin just had a shiny badge and was charismatic. He would be gone when this case was closed anyway.

She flexed her fingers and decided to let it go. When this was settled, Daryl and Caesar were going to sit down and get to know each other. For Sophia's sake, they needed to get along. Carol didn't want to choose between them, and eventually that would happen. Be it holidays or somewhere in this case. She couldn't make that choice, and she hoped she didn't have to.

––

Joe and his crew departed the alley beside the designated dumping area, leaving behind the body. Someone had tipped them off that a mole would come to them asking for information about a hit man, and they were prepared. They let him sifted through their information for a bit then they let him have it. They didn't tolerate moles, no matter who they were related to, and they didn't want that crazy motherfucker to take them out if they disobeyed.

The sniper observed as they tossed the body and now walked away. He could tell they couldn't finished the job, but without proper medical attention he would die. He murmured to himself about their incompetence as he watched through his scoop, seeing the twitching fingers and the full damage. His lips curled to the side at the sight.

He honestly didn't know if anybody would find his body, and if they did, he would be known as John Doe. He had made them strip him of his wallet and his fingerprints. He could still hear the screams. For his game to continue, he dearly hoped someone found his pathetic little body, because it wouldn't do him any good if it was left there to rot and be picked away to nothing by exposure. Bones wouldn't do anything, but take time he didn't have the patience to wait. If they found him as he was or in the new few days however, word might get back to Williams, but he didn't want to take any chances. He wasn't going to do anything either however. It wasn't his place to play God and decide if the faux Archer lived or died. He would endure, as he always had, and while this alley wasn't highly trafficked, he had a feeling someone would stumble upon him. After all, good things come to those who wait.

And so he would watch, as he always did. His feelings were rarely incorrect, and he needed to prepare. If Williams was the woman he knew she was, he wouldn't have to wait long for results, whether the impersonator died or lived. It would be just like old times, and he wouldn't have to waste a bullet on blood that didn't belong to Williams'. He had wasted enough bullets on unworthy blood, and this game was coming to a close. He was, after all, running out of pawns.


	23. To The Bloody Finish

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

––

Carol weaved her way through the people crowding the lobby of the hospital, her heart racing, her lungs burning from attempting to shout over the overlapping voices. It appeared many people were injured in the last twenty four hours, because the hospital was completely packed. She felt like she was moving in slow motion, like the room was expanding as they did in old horror films, and she couldn't see through the people she pushed past. She couldn't see the end, and if she could look back, she knew she wouldn't be able to see the beginning.

"Let me through," echoed around the room. "Pardon me. Excuse me." Underneath every uttered word was the sound of heavy panting that boomed around her. It was a low, breathy sound, but it hurt her ears, and she felt dizzy. She didn't know where the origin was, and from how it sounded as if it were all around her, she doubt she could pinpoint it.

Daryl? Daryl? Daryl? Her mouth was moving but her voice wasn't coming out. Daryl...Daryl...Daryl! She could feel tears in her eyes, a dryness searing through her throat, and she couldn't advance further in the crowd. Nor could she retreat at this point. She was caught, helpless, being carried by the people who moved leisurely forward. "Daryl!"

She shot up out of bed, sweat on the back of her neck, her ragged breath ricocheting off the walls of her nearly vacant bedroom. The alarm clock beside her blinked forward, making it now four-fifty-eight. A chill coursed through her body, and she worried she might be sick. She didn't know what this feeling was. She'd never felt like this before, and she didn't know what was causing it.

Slipping out of bed, she made her to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She had to leave for work anyway, and she needed to do a few things before she took Mika to see the place Daryl had graciously given her. She needed to see if Ryan could stay with Mika today, at least until Andrea could take care of her and Keira. Or maybe Andrea could make time. Perhaps.

Moaning softly, she gripped the edge of the sink, still the knot twisting in the pit of her stomach. That dream was so vivid. She could smell the hospital, feel the bodies as she pushed through them and her dry, burning throat. She couldn't shake it. It was like a warning, or something. She couldn't say. She never dreamed about people who were safe or alive. Sam was a constant in her dreams, whether they were bliss or hellish. Rick and Karen as well. Never someone who was alive, unless she was on medication. There were no exceptions.

Perhaps it was all a manifestation of her fear and anxiety. She had spoken about Daryl many times yesterday and having gotten word from him could have caused this. She knew how things panned out for her in the past, so her subconscious played out what might happen if it all went wrong. That could be it. She didn't need to worry about Daryl. She didn't need to feel this way. It would be fine. He had a goal. He had a reason to play it cool and to come back alive. A reason that would make any pain, any assigned objective, any _thing_ worth it.

Lifting her eyes to the mirror she saw just how worn she was, and she didn't want to admit. She didn't want to let even the smallest hint of her stress and fatigue escape. The moment that happened it wasn't just hers—it was everybody's. She knew it was already Caesar's and Michonne's, but she couldn't let it spread any further, not to anyone else at the station. If they were to succumb to stress and hopelessness then the sniper would win again, and all of this would be for nothing. She had to keep up a strong front. She had to keep going forward with clear eyes and nothing but drive. If she let anything in, let the reality of this settle, it was all over. She wouldn't let it end like this again. She couldn't spend another second in his shadow, stopped cold by how much she was afraid of the sniper and his reach.

She pushed off the counter and returned to her bedroom, leaning in the doorway as exhaustion settled back in. She set her head against the frame and noticed then the lump in her bed. A weary smile crossed her lips, and she let out a small chuckle. Mika had crawled into bed with her. She was curled up with her red-headed doll, blonde hair peeking out from under the blanket. Carol had accidentally tossed the covers onto her when she got out of bed. It didn't wake her. Mika must be a deep sleeper.

She climbed back into bed and set her alarm for six, deciding that she needed the sleep to keep sharp and to find the sniper. She closed her eyes, the bed shifting as Mika rolled onto her side, and Carol felt the cloth braids of her doll brush against her knuckles just before drifting off.

– – –

"Breakfast for five." Caesar handed the girls their plates first then Andrea and Carol were given a plate and finally himself.

"Thanks for coming by." She coiled up on the couch, working on her second cup of coffee, and she accepted the plate. "I meant to call to let you know I wouldn't be in at five."

"I'm glad you didn't." He ate a forkful of eggs.

"I'm glad you finally slept," Andrea added. "You look better."

"I feel better. I have to meet with Michonne in half an hour." She met Andrea's eyes pleadingly. "Could you watch Mika?"

"Yeah, I'd love to." She smiled. "I'm taking Keira shopping, and I don't mind taking Mika."

"Shopping?"

"Yes. It'll be fine." She spoke in a soft tone so the girls didn't hear. "It will be."

Reluctantly, Carol nodded. "I'd like if you'd call me when you arrive and when you get home."

"All right."

"So, how was your first night?" Caesar asked Mika.

"It was good." She took a drink of chocolate milk to wash down a bite of pancake. "I slept in Carol's bed."

"It was unfair of me to make you sleep on the couch," Carol said. She just couldn't see any other child in Sam's room. "We'll check out a place today, and if you like it, you'll have your own room and bed by tonight."

She beamed. "Sounds great."

They ate together, the air lighter than it was this morning, and Carol had a good feeling about today. She wasn't sure what would happen, but she was damn sure she was one day closer to finding the sniper and ending this. She was tired of thinking about him. When she closed in, she wasn't going to let him get away no matter what. If she had to kill him then so be it.

––

Carol was intercepted by Rosita on her way to the station, and she didn't expect her to be out in the daylight like that. Normally she envisioned Rosita in a dark room with fifty computers around her, twenty empty cups of coffee and takeout surrounding her while she dug for information on the sniper. She could be here to deliver the file on Joe's gang. Carol had a plan to tip Shepard off with the file by saying it was dropped off anonymously at the station. She hoped Rosita had worn gloves and made sure no even the smallest strand of hair fell on the pages. She didn't want her in anymore trouble than she already was in.

"What are you doing here?" Carol whispered, searching her eyes.

"I had a friend drop off the file on Joe's gang, and I wanted to tell you that I can show Mika the loft right now. I have to pick up something for Sammy's grave. It sucks you had to reschedule, but I'm happy that I get to come along."

"I'll take Mika, but thank you for offering."

"No problem. I need to get out more." She sighed. "I should get back to it, but I'll see you tomorrow, won't I?"

"Lori will drag me out there by my hair if I didn't show."

"Good." She smirked. "Be safe, Carol. Not everybody is what they seem."

"What do you mean?"

"Just...keep your circle of friends small, and be careful when you take down Joe. He's...dangerous."

"I'll make sure Daryl gets out of there okay," she assured her. "At this point I think it's best that we take Joe down. We'll get any information he has, and Daryl won't be in risk of death or maiming."

She nodded. "I only worry because I care."

"I know. We'll be fine."

"Okay. I'll see you soon."

She watched Rosita leave and heaved a sigh before heading inside. She spotted Caesar arguing with someone over the phone, Michonne was by the white board with a determined look in her eyes, and Carol was instantly bombarded by Tobin. She was grateful to have gotten sleep, because if she hadn't and he had come at her like that, she would flipped him onto his easily thrown out back. She might be little, but that didn't mean she couldn't do it. People really shouldn't judge anyone on size. Given a bad enough mood, lack of sleep and enough coffee to that would make anyone else speed around the world twice, she could snap him like a twig. She wouldn't, but she could.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"You look good, like you were finally able to sleep."

"Yeah, it's been the first night of decent sleep in weeks." She ran a hand through her short hair. "What have I missed?"

"Not much. Caesar's been on the phone for thirty minutes now, and I'm not sure what he's trying to do. Sometimes he speaks in Spanish, sometimes in English, and I gave up trying to follow the conversation."

"He does that when he's mad." She glanced at her partner. He had left before her to follow up on the lead he'd worked on yesterday. She was a little surprised they were back so soon. Either they didn't follow through, or Tobin drove like a mad man. Or Caesar and Tobin had checked it out before Caesar came over to make breakfast for her. "I should talk to him when he gets off the phone. His blood pressure will be through the roof if this continues."

He chuckled. "When you're done, I'd like to have a word with you."

"Well, I'm here now if you want to speak." She met his eyes. "What is it?"

"It's not related to this case, so why don't we talk over dinner tonight?"

"That would be fine. We're still meeting at my place?"

"Yes."

"You know the way, and where I am if you do have something that relates to this case to discuss." She cleared her throat. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get to work."

He nodded.

Carol sat her desk the very second Caesar got off the phone, and he cursed at it in Spanish, and she snorted under her breath. He used to do that when they were kids, and he'd get mad. He'd only do it under his breath so no one would hear. He got angry a lot, but he wasn't one for fighting. He only fought now if he had to defend himself or if he had no choice. He was a good fighter, but he was better with his words.

"Everything okay?" she asked with laughter in her tone.

"It will be." He turned to face her. "So, you know that lead Reynolds and I followed?"

"Yes."

"Turned out to be a bust."

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't all for nothing. I did learn a little on Tobin."

"What's with that face?"

"I don't know how I feel about him, to be honest."

"What, are you playing into the whole cops and feds don't like each other thing?" she teased.

"No, I don't mind feds, but I mind Tobin." He shrugged a shoulder. "Or I mind sharing the same space with him for four hours in a car with no radio and no talking."

"You didn't talk?"

"Not much. I was messaging Keira the entire time."

"How is she?"

"She's trying to sleep for the first hour, but by the third, she was telling me about her morning cartoons. You know where she is now."

"They've been shopping for an hour now." She nodded. "I need to thank Andrea for understanding and for calling me. I must seem crazy."

"Only to those on the outside, but we know you. It's not crazy— _you're_ not crazy."

"Thanks."

"No problem. How would you like some coffee?"

"I'm fine, actually."

"What? Really? No coffee for you?"

"I'll take some tea though. Green tea."

"Tea? The only time you drink tea is when you're pregnant, or can't sleep."

"Well, I'm neither. I just don't want coffee. I had plenty this morning." She logged into her computer, his eyes boring into her to try and decide which of the two things he'd name were correct. "I'm okay, Caesar. I just want something a little more soothing."

"All right."

– – –

"Carol." Shepard stood at her desk, her eyes wide, and Carol frowned.

"What is it?"

"About the files on Joe's gang..."

"What is it?"

"They found a large amount of blood in their building," she continued. "We believe someone was recently killed there, or badly injured so we searched the area and the areas of where they usually dump their bodies."

"Did you find someone?"

"Yes." She hesitated. "We found a body among the garbage near a condemned warehouse. It was the Archer's brother."

Her blood ran cold. "Daryl?" She nodded. "Is he alive?"

"Yes. Barely. They rushed him to the hospital, and he's in the ICU." She lifted her head. "I just thought you should know. You two were surviving that hell with the Governor together, and it just felt like you should know."

"What hospital?" she demanded.

"Are you okay?" She looked over Carol's pale face. "Are you sure you should go? You don't look well. You shouldn't drive. Let me take you."

"I'm fine to drive, just tell me where." She gathered her things as Shepard told her which hospital, and she stopped before she flew out of the building. "Thank you for telling me, Shepard."

"Anytime." She offered her a warm smile and watched her leave.

"What's going on?" Caesar saw Carol just before she fell out of sight. "Did you find a lead on the sniper?"

"No, no. It was Daryl Dixon. He's been admitted into the ICU after an almost fatal encounter with Joe's group. I thought Carol should know. They were held captive together, and she's such a mama bear." She smiled a little. "Besides he would be more comfortable talking to someone he knows."

"What makes you say that?"

"I saw how he was being treated when he gave his statement, like he was his brother and should be punished as well. They're brothers, but that doesn't mean they're at all the same." She huffed. "It makes me angry just to think about it."

"Yeah, I guess...since they're brothers people assume they're were in on it together, but nobody's exactly the same. People keep secrets." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll have a word with him."

She nodded. "I have paperwork to get back to, and you have a sniper to find. Good luck."

"No, good luck to you. Paperwork is job nobody gets out of clean."

She chuckled and walked away.

He exhaled and looked at the door Carol had ran out of. Maybe he'd send Daryl some flowers, or something. Carol wasn't an expert or friend to Daryl, but neither was he. He should at least know who he'd slandered. He'd either end up apologizing or going off again. He owed Daryl a chance, because he was raised to be a decent human being and to be kind to people. He would start by giving Daryl some get well soon balloons. Everybody loved balloons, right? Better than flowers that die in like a week.

––

Carol had arrived at the hospital and learned Daryl was still in critical condition. They didn't have any information for her at that time, but the woman she spoke with promised she'd get news to her soon. Carol thanked her and went to have a seat. She found Lerner in the lobby, and she sat beside her. Lerner gave her the full store of how they found him, and she felt her stomach clench. She squeezed her eyes shut and hung her head, picturing all of it in her mind. She couldn't process this.

Daryl wasn't conscious when they found him. They had broken both his hand and his arm on his right side, beat him with a chain from behind and burned his palms with cigars. He had multiple contusions to the head. They also burned off his fingerprints with acid, which was strange, because that wasn't what they usually did to their victims. It stood out more than anything else, and it was a sign. It was from the sniper. He knew Carol would get that information about having no fingerprints, and he was getting tired of waiting so he ratted Daryl out. He couldn't get to Sophia, so he went for the next best thing.

She felt queasy. She couldn't slow her heart, and she gripped the back of her neck, eyes still shut. It was happening again. It wasn't in the same order, but that didn't matter. She had lost Rick right after Sam and she might lose Daryl. She might even subsequently lose Sophia. She didn't even know where she was. She couldn't get in contact with anyone to try and find Sophia, to protect her. And even if she could get to Sophia, she shouldn't. He would kill her. He always managed to get one step ahead, to know things he shouldn't, and she was left with someone she loved dying in front of her, their blood cold on her skin.

She couldn't endure that a third time. She couldn't pick herself up and keep going if she lost Daryl. She would always fear Sophia would be next, and she would make mistakes. She would be reckless and put that little girl and the people closest to her in danger. She had the shadow of death stalking her, and she couldn't escape it, not when the sun cast shadows so tall and dark around her.

Christ, she thought it would better this time. She thought it would be simple. She knew it would be high-risk. She knew it would be agonizing. She knew someone might get hurt. She just didn't think it would repeat the past. It wasn't exactly how it was before, but that didn't matter. Daryl was in critical condition, and the sniper was enjoying this victory somewhere she couldn't find, somewhere not Caesar or Rosita or Daryl could find. They were back at square one, only with one less person on their side. Even if Daryl managed to survive, it would be a while before he was even ready to think about helping them again.

"Fuck," she hissed under her breath, lifting her head.

Dawn was gone, likely to the bathroom or to give Carol a moment. The people around her were distracted, and she wondered if he was there in this room with her. She couldn't feel that dark, cold energy he emitted, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. He enjoyed moments like this, so he had to be nearby. He wouldn't let her stumble into this and be unaware. She hoped he enjoyed this, because if Daryl died in there, she was going to kill him. Fuck justice. She was going to beat him to death. She was tired of the loses and the heartache and the nightmares and the fear that froze her. If Daryl died, so did the sniper.

– – –

Andrea set her cell phone down on the table and turned to the girls. "Carol's busy at the moment, so why don't we finish packing? I think I know someone who can show us the new place, so we'll finish here and start moving the lighter boxes."

"But what if I don't like this place?" Mika questioned. "Carol said we'd move only if I approved of it."

"She did say that," Keira said.

"Then we'll go see the new place first. Rosita can show us around, and if you like it, we'll start moving boxes. I know a guy that can help." She smiled. "Put your coats on. It's chilly out."

As Keira and Mika slipped into their coats, Andrea released a long sigh. She couldn't believe what happened to Daryl. She wouldn't tell Rosita about this. Carol should be the one to tell her. If Carol was in the mood to even speak to anyone. She couldn't imagine what Carol must be feeling. She'd lost Sam and Rick the last time the sniper showed, and now she might lose Daryl. She could only pray the sniper didn't get Sophia. He used a gang to get to Daryl, God only knows what'd he used to get Sophia.

––

Carol saw cup come into her sight, and she straightened, seeing it was Tobin. She was a little disappointed. She had hoped it was Caesar or Michonne. Or literally anybody else. She didn't want to get into it with Tobin. He wasn't family, wasn't close to Carol like the others were, and he didn't understand. She happy he'd brought coffee at least. That was an upside.

"Thank you."

"I thought you could use it." He took the seat beside her. "Was it the sniper?"

"Not directly, but yes."

"Do you know the man?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I." She leaned forward, elbows on her thighs, and she rubbed her thumbnail across the lid of the coffee. "I wish I could have done more."

"You couldn't have known he was going to do this, Carol. He's been known to kill with a sniper rifle, and nobody could have expected him to bribe a local gang to beat this man almost to death. It's not your fault this happened."

"Yes, it is." Her eyes flickered into his. "I'm the one he wants. I'm the person he's trying to break, not that man or his family. Everything he's ever done he's done to hurt me, to try and break me so he can beat me or sweeten the moment when he finally kills me. I don't know one thing about the sniper, but I'm number one on his list. You can't even comprehend what I'm going through. I don't need your platitudes or sympathy. I just need to find this asshole."

He nodded, not speaking a word.

"I'm sorry if I sound cruel or cold. I just don't want to listen to lies that have never comforted me."

"You're correct. I can't say I understand what you're going through, but I can help you find the sniper."

She inhaled. "Do you have new, useful information?"

"I do."

"Let's go then." She stood up.

Just then the doctor who had been tending to Daryl stepped out and joined them, knowing who Carol was from the nurse's description.

"How is he?" Carol was scared to discover Daryl's current condition, but she knew she needed to how he was. If he was... She'd waited here for hours, and she'd missed taking Mika to see the loft. She couldn't leave without knowing if he was dead or if he was recovering.

"He's stable for now."

"For now? What do you mean?"

He explained what he meant in a way that didn't assure Carol he'd make it, let alone through the night, and he could see that. He couldn't assure her that would survive. It was touch and go for a while, and he honestly didn't know for how much longer Mr. Dixon would remain stable. The blood loss was significant, and he may never regain full use of his right arm and hand again. And the damage by the chains ripped flesh from his back, and unfortunately an infection had set in. He was in a coma, and the next few days were crucial. It was a miracle he was still alive; he must be holding on by will alone. Or God was beside him.

"Could I at least see him?"

"Are you family?"

"Yes, I am. I'm also a member of the NYPD." She showed her badge. "Please, just a minute with him is all I want."

He nodded. "One minute."

She was guided into the ICU, and she stopped cold two feet from the door that led into Daryl's room at the sight of him. She couldn't even recognize him, and she couldn't look at him. There was nothing disgusting about him. She just couldn't bare to see him like that: pale, broken, bruised, comatose. He had a weak heartbeat, tubes that helped him breathe and had medicine coursing through him to combat the infection. He was so vulnerable right now. Anybody could waltz in here and finish the job.

She couldn't enter his room. She simply couldn't make her legs near him. She turned on her heel and hurried out of there. Tobin called to her and chased her out into the parking lot. He caught her by the arm before she ran in front of car, she was trembling; and she freed herself, setting a hand on her car to steady herself as she heaved.

"Carol?" He set a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine." She shrugged his hand off, turning carefully so she could lean against her car.

"Was it that bad?"

"I don't recognize the man I knew," she muttered through trembling lips, but she wasn't going to cry. She was livid and terrified for him. "I need to speak with Michonne, tell her to station an officer outside his room at all times, then I want you to tell me this new information, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good." She pushed off her car and called Michonne. "It's me."

"You sound horrible."

"I feel the same, but that's not why I called." She cleared her throat and explained what happened with Daryl. She knew Michonne would understand and do what Carol asked now. She would question Carol later when they were face to face.

"Are you sure he's at risk?"

"I'd stake my life on it."

She exhaled. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Ma'am?"

"Williams."

"I just expected you to send Shepard or Lerner is all."

"Well, they've done enough for today, and I could use a break. Don't worry. We'll take good care of him."

"I know you will. Thank you, Michonne."

"Stay safe, Carol."

"You too." She hung up and faced Tobin. "So, where are we going?"

"I'll drive." He nodded toward his car.

They climbed into his car, Carol could faintly smell food he had in the backseat, and he told her to help herself. It was his lunch, but he wasn't hungry. Carol couldn't swallow anything with the golf ball in her throat, but she gulp down a big drink from his bottle of water. The coffee he had given her was in the cup holder, but she didn't want it just yet. She wanted to get this taste out of her mouth, so she took another big drink and the taste began to fade.

However there was a new on that lingered. It wasn't the powered lemonade that had been poured into the bottle, no. It was hung on her tongue, and she felt the effects of a drug slowly take her over. Her vision began to blur, the headlights of passing cars streamed by in one long continuous strip, and she couldn't hear things as they were. They were as echos, and she lost her grip on the water bottle, but Tobin caught it before it fell and sloshed out on her pants and the floor of his car.

"Easy, Williams." He minded the wheel as he twisted the cap shut, tossing it into the backseat now that its contents were contained, and he made a turn. "You okay?"

"W—what did you give me?" she demanded.

He glanced at her. "Still talking, I'm impressed. Two swigs, and I was down for the count." He laughed now. "And you downed two large gulps. I bet you could drink me under the table."

"Who are you?" She felt unconsciousness only a few seconds away.

"Just an...admirer." He reached over and caressed her cheek as she blacked out. "A dedicated admirer."

The last thing she heard a deep and dark chuckle.

– – –

"Hey." Caesar met Andrea and Rosita at the loft Daryl had given to Carol. "How are the girls?"

"Good. They're playing upstairs." Andrea folded her arms. "We're about to order some food then pick it up on the way home."

"Okay." He gave Rosita a nod. "Where's Carol?"

"She and Tobin are checking on a lead. They'll be back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Caesar frowned. "Why tomorrow?"

"It's out of state, but it's promising."

"Promising?" Rosita snorted. "Tobin found this lead?"

"Yeah, he called me an hour ago and told me what was going on, asked me to keep Mika for the night. Carol was getting coffee, told him to call me."

"Did you talk to Carol?" Caesar inquired.

"No, but I could hear in the background. She said hi."

"Why call you and not me?" He shook his head. "And why take only Tobin?"

"Jealous?" Rosita teased. "You're being replaced."

"I'm not jealous. It's just not like her." He stuffed his hands in his coat pocket. "And the last lead Tobin brought us was crap. Carol would've called me anyway, to tell me how Daryl was."

"What?" Rosita tensed. "What happened to Daryl?"

He winced then told her about what happened, and he wasn't sure if she was upset or ready to empty a gun into someone. Possibly in the middle of those two. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I was busy with this case, and I assumed Carol would call to fill you in."

"It's all right. I'll check on him myself." She heaved a shaky sigh. "I understand why Carol didn't tell me, but I'm calling her to complain. Later though, I have to get to the hospital." She hurried from the apartment and to her car.

"Don't worry about Carol or Tobin. They're both capable of taking care of themselves, both are armed and have each other should something happen." She rubbed his arm. "Okay?"

"It's fishy." He shook his head again and looked around. "Nice place."

"Isn't it?"

"We should get it fixed up for when Daryl's released." He ignored the astonished look that morphed into a smirk on his wife's face. "I'll help you move them. I need a distraction right now, and Michonne told me if I didn't go home and sleep, she was going to lock me out of the station."

"That sounds great. I'll call Shane, maybe he can bring Lori and the kids. They can't help much, especially Judy, but it'd be nice to see them."

"Yeah, it would be. It's a long drive, but I think they were coming up anyway to see Carol. They could just spend the night—if they agree to come that is."

"Why don't you get the girls? I'll warm up the cars."

"Actually, I want to make a pit stop first." He didn't hand over his keys. "I'll meet you at Carol's."

"All right." She started up the stairs to get the girls.

He strolled out of the apartment and down the hall, going to the one place he didn't think he'd find himself in person. He had planned on sending a gift down with Carol or Rosita or Shepard as she was next on watch, but he needed to do this in person. He wasn't family, but Rosita could hack her way in to make herself seem that way. He could have her deliver his gift.

Lerner was outside his room, reviewing someone's case, Rosita in Daryl's room behind her. Caesar gave her a smile as a greeting and peered in on Daryl. He had been fucked up pretty bad, and Caesar knew felt like shit for him. He wished he could do more. If he had more information on the sniper, Daryl wouldn't have been in this situation. Instead he let the case drop all those years ago. He didn't try, even when he should have. He let his godson down, Rick and Carol and now Daryl. Daryl was paying a price he shouldn't have to. Caesar would make sure the sniper got his ten fold, for the ones who didn't make and the ones barely holding on.

He set the gift of balloons and a teddy bear on the far table and exited the hospital. He had a file to check out, and he was glad Michonne wouldn't be in the area to stop him. He had learned from Dawn that Michonne had left ten minutes ago for home. He was a terrible snoop, but never without a good reason. This reason would get him in trouble, but punishment be damned. If he learned one thing, it was to trust his gut, and his gut wasn't thrilled with Tobin's lead.

––

Rosita sat beside Daryl's bed, legs crossed, her eyes studying his face. She had slipped in between Michonne leaving and Dawn entering, happy to see her friendship with the woman was still intact. And thanks to Dawn she could be with family who really needed somebody beside them.

Daryl was a mixture of white and black and blue and red. He wasn't in good shape, and she was worried the coma he was in might be his final stop. He was stable but still critical. She knew he was tough, tougher than Merle could ever be, because he gathered strength from the people around him. It added to his own and made him something to fear. That's why he was sought out to be the Archer, and he would pull through with that amassed strength.

She gently laid her fingers across his bruised wrist. Daryl could pull through this. Whether he actually wanted to was a different matter. He had no idea what was going on. He didn't know about the lead Carol had. He didn't know how Sophia was doing, and they couldn't bring her in here so she could see him. They couldn't risk exposing her, so all Daryl had to cling to were hopes. Hope that Carol could find the sniper, hope that Sophia was all right, hope that he was waking up to a better world. Rosita couldn't verify any of his worries; she didn't know what they were. She could really only assume, and that wasn't going to do him any good. Her voice wasn't the voice he needed to hear.

She exhaled from what felt like her soul and rubbed her thumb over his bruises, her touch feather-light, as if she could wipe them and his other injures away. She had been here before. She had hoped to never return, but here she was with him. A man who saved her life and gave her a goal, who gave her a family. He lead her to a woman who gave her even more family and an even bigger goal. She thought she had it all figured out. All of her backup plans were solid, and she thought it would be easy as pie. She thought that if they just kept together, they could overcome every problem.

It was a child's thought. There were problems that she couldn't have foreseen, that words couldn't undo. There were problems now that she didn't know how to handle, that she couldn't hack into and divert or destroy. She had no more moves in this, and she was scared. She didn't know how this would turn out. She had been running around for weeks, scrapping at any information at this Ed or E.D., like a dog trying to remember where it buried its bone. Only there was no bone to be found, all the holes were empty, filled with wasted time and false hope. And she was standing in the middle of a yard that was brown, all the green and the life ripped away and ruined. She couldn't see what was behind or before her; it was all brown. Soon the rain would come and she would sink in into the muddy holes she'd dug.

She lifted her eyes at the sound of flat-lining, tears springing up in her eyes, air squished out of her lungs, and she was guided out of the room by one of the nurses. She couldn't follow them as they rolled him toward the elevator, saying something about internal bleeding, and she fell to the ground, the flat-lining screaming in her mind. She felt cold, but not from the hospital floor. She didn't know to do. She had no tricks up her sleeve, and she was lost. She was right back at their graves, layered in black, eyes puffy from the tears, and she couldn't breathe. She was being buried alive over the course of the last twelve years from the fear of reliving the past, of losing the people she loved, and she didn't know it until now.

––

A finger lightly tapped beside her nose but not quite on her cheek. She could sense someone in the room that wasn't the one touching her, and she could smell the aftershave Tobin wore. She was aware of the feeling of cold concrete underneath her, a dull pain in her hip and the effects of the drugs still overwhelmed her. She knew she had only seconds to try and figure a way out of this, but she had to assume she was bound and that even if she wasn't her body wasn't going anywhere with the drug still in her system. She would need a miracle to survive this.

"She's awake." It was a voice she had dreamed of for many years, a voice that belonged to a body that haunted her every waking hour, and it was only a few feet away from her. "Are you assessing the situation?"

She opened her eyes, turning her head and her eyes fell on the shadow he was hidden by. "Aren't you?"

An airy chuckle.

Tobin glanced between the two of them. "I brought her, will you keep up your end?"

"What end?"

"We had a deal."

"We didn't have a deal. You simply spoke and made a deal with me in your mind." He remained hidden. "I didn't want her brought to me. That's not how this works."

"So I've been brought," Carol shrugged, "what now? And what deal did you hope to grain, Agent Reynolds?"

The air was still as the bullet flew through the air and ripped clean through the agent's forehead, his body falling back and landing on Carol's lower legs. Blood from the wood seeped onto the floor and neared her pants and boots. Her eyes widened, and breathing erratically she wormed away from his dead body as best she could, her boots leaving a trail of his blood.

She hadn't expected that. She knew he was a cold-blooded killer, but she didn't think he would just kill Tobin flat out. She knew eventually it would come to that, but not so soon, not that smoothly. She didn't give Tobin a chance to explain what the hell he was doing. He didn't allow her to use Tobin to buy her time to free herself from her binds. She had no means of escaping and no distraction. She had lost the trust and friendship of a man she thought she knew, and she may never know why. Now they were alone, as it should be, as it always had been.

"This isn't how it's meant to be," he informed her from the shadows.

"How was it meant to be?" she spat. "You following me in the shadows until you had me in your crosshairs? Until the moment was sweet enough to savor for the rest of your life?"

"We've always been on the same frequency. I've never had a connection to anyone like I have to you." He inhaled deeply. "It's disgusting."

"Trust me, I'd rather have a connection to a maggot feeding on a long rotting corpse than have anything to do with you." Her head met a wall, and she struggled but managed to push herself into a sitting position.

"Uncomfortable?"

"Among other things." She shot a glare at him. "You'll pay for what you've done."

"What I've done...to you? I've done so many things to so many people. It's difficult to know what I should be paying for."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

A smirk crossed his lips. "It's never been about them, you know."

"Of course I know that." She pulled her legs to the side to work on undoing the binds as her hands were behind her, her eyes falling on Tobin's body and the streaks her boots had left with his blood. "Christ."

"This won't do," he muttered. "The moves are incorrect and sloppy. I won't tolerate this."

Carol stopped with her bindings and narrowed her eyes at the darkness in the corner of the room, and she threw herself down when the butt of a gun swung at her. She rolled to the side, knowing there wasn't going to be another chance if she didn't act hastily.

She panted as panic rose up in her lungs, the darkness which hid the sniper closing in on her, and she calmed herself instantly. She couldn't feel his eyes on her anymore. He had to have left the room somehow, because he wasn't glaring at her. She couldn't sense him as strongly as she could before. Drawing in a calming breath, she maneuvered her body so that she could quickly slip her arms out from underneath her and lifting her legs carefully through the gap the cuffs created. She couldn't as easily break her thumb anymore, and she hoped Tobin had the sense to keep the key.

She first grasped the gun on Tobin's belt and fired two bullets into the darkness where his voice had from simply to be sure. There was no sound, so she took Tobin's flashlight next and shined it in the darkness, seeing nothing her but holes in the door he had escaped out of.

"Damn it." She managed to slid the gun into the band of her pants and placed the flashlight in her mouth to search Tobin's body for the keys. She knew she was wasting time, but she couldn't be handcuffed at a time like this.

After what felt like twenty minutes but likely had been about five, she gave up and ran out the door, her heart pounding. She wasn't afraid of having lost him in the city. She wasn't afraid of dying here trying to stop him. She wasn't really afraid of anything at all. She couldn't explain the emotion tied to her heart racing, nor could she explain how she knew the sniper was still there. He was waiting for her somewhere in the maze of this building, and when she saw him, she knew it would end. It had started nearly thirteen years ago and it was all coming to an end today. Finally.

– – –

Caesar was scrunched up with a bunch of cold cases that Tobin had worked on, and he heard movement in the stacks. He lifted his head as Rosita rounded the corner, looking so small in her over-sized cardigan, her big brown eyes rimmed with red and swollen. She looked foreign without any makeup on, her dark hair down around her shoulders, but he would know her anywhere.

"Hey." She sat cross-legged in front of him. "Need a hand?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I have my laptop. Care to do a little hacking?"

"I'd love to." She snuffled and cleared her throat. "On who?"

"Tobin Reynolds." He handed her his computer bag.

"Why him?" She pulled his laptop out of its case and pushed power, moving hair from her face.

"Because I want to know more about our dear agent Reynolds is all."

"You think he's the sniper?"

"Well, he does have E and D in his name, and he'd seen Carol just before she was given the sniper's case and suddenly now he's back to work on it with her again. I don't believe in coincidences. He may not be the sniper, but I know for sure he is involved in this somehow. I just don't know how." He met her eyes. "It's just something Carol told me that I can't let go of."

The ghost of a smile danced on her dry, pink lips. "You always were one to cling to the little details."

"I am." He couldn't smirk like he wanted to. "And it's gotten me far in my profession, so let's hope this piece of information is worth something."

"It will be. Your mind has a way of finding leads." She set a hand over his encouragingly. "It'll lead us somewhere good. You are, after all, the one who discovered Carol was kidnapped, and _I_ helped set that up."

"Thanks."

"So, what's the information?" She removed her hand and typed in his password.

"Carol told me Tobin had a chance to take the sniper out before. He didn't take the shot."

"That's all?"

"The thing is...there have been similar mentions of this. Tobin will come close to an armed and highly dangerous criminal but won't take a shot to kill or incapacitate them. He always claims he "couldn't get a good angle". He's one of their best, so nobody ever pushed." Caesar shook his head. "If he was a newbie, I could understand being reluctant to take the shot, but he wasn't—he'd been in the Bureau for five years."

"What do you think's up with him?" She peered at him through the corner of her eye. "Think he's their inside guy? Or just someone who's fascinated by criminals?"

"I don't know, but he dragged me out to the ass end of nowhere. I don't think he was following a lead. I'm not sure what he was doing, but I do know that he's been oddly close with Carol and Michonne. Always with the "meetings" and "needing to talk in private". He's never once tried to speak with me or anybody else at the station, not even Morrison." He shrugged a shoulder. "If I had to give my honest opinion, I would have to say Tobin idolized men like the sniper. To do what he does and to successfully get away with it, to remain in the shadows for over a decade and yet still be taking lives."

"Hero worship?" Rosita's brows rose. "Here I thought he really wanted some of Carol's cookies." She turned her attention back to the screen, happy for such a distraction.

"How is Daryl?" Caesar dared to inquire, knowing she wouldn't be here if he was alive or not in the midst of surgery.

"I'm not sure. He...is currently undergoing more surgery, and I'm not sure if he'll make it through the night. To say he's in bad shape would be an understatement." Her brown eyes misted over, and she inhaled deeply. "I'm trying to be hopeful, to pray he'll make it through, but when I looked at his face... I see it every time I close my eyes. Every time."

He swallowed with difficulty. "I saw him, and he didn't look so great. I don't know how he is doing medically, and I don't know how strong he is, but I do know that Carol sees something in him. I don't even know what, but I know Carol. She wouldn't have trusted him with her daughter if she didn't know without a shadow of a doubt that he was capable of keeping her safe, that he could come back from even the worst. I believe in Carol, and she believes in him."

"Caesar—"

"You know him better than I do," he added. " And you can argue with me, but know this: he has _the best_ doctors in the city working on him, he has a child who loves him dearly to return to, and he has you and the family you all make. Why wouldn't he fight to come back to all of that? What fool would give up and leave all that behind?"

The ghost smile appeared once more, and she laughed weakly, nodding. "Thank you. I really needed to hear that."

He nodded. "Let's get back to it. If I'm right, Carol's going to need our help. I'm not going to lose her, or Sophia or Daryl, not if I can help it."

"You feel it too?" Rosita whispered.

"Ever since Carol told me about who Sophia really is. I don't intend to lose anybody else to him."

"Neither do I."

It was a promise. One that they had no real power of keeping, as their variables were too unpredictable, but it was all they had to keep themselves together. It was enough. For just right now, it was enough.

– – –

Carol hurried after the sniper, having good fortune with the hall only leading one way. Nevertheless she knew it would eventually run out. This place was huge, and she knew that eventually there would be a split in the hall. She just had to trust her gut, now more than ever, because she could feel the finality of it all rushing through her veins alongside her adrenaline.

As she knew it would, there was a split in the hallway, and she was panting, feeling a dryness in her throat. She exhaled from the pit of her lungs and thought what she would do in his situation. He didn't want it to play out like this. He kept saying that this wasn't how things were meant to be. If his plan were cast into disarray, where would he go to try and organize them? Surely he wouldn't try to run away and return at a later date. He did enjoy disappearing, she knew, but to come this close without doing any real harm to her didn't fit who he was. He had no real proof that the assault on Daryl affected her, and he didn't know where Sophia was. Vanishing into the air wasn't going to do it for him this time. He needed to kill her. He would be lingering around here, waiting for her to make her move, and in his mind it would be her final move.

She found herself leaning more to the left of the building, and she said a soft prayer before heading down the hall. As she progressed the lights were beginning to vastly spread out, and she had to use the flashlight. She didn't trust that the floor wasn't going to break under her feet. She didn't know where she was, but the sniper wouldn't have met Tobin anywhere decently structured, especially given that he planned to murder Tobin. He would leave his body here to rot. He had little to gain if Tobin's body was found. Likely they were in an old building, condemned or eventually to be torn down and rebuilt.

She could still feel her heart pounding in her chest, and the more she edged down the hall, the harder and faster it pounded. She felt it in her throat and screaming in her ears. She knew that couldn't be healthy, and she tried to slow her heart, but there was no use. She had been in this situation before, and she didn't come out of it as clean as she had entered. She was older now, had the skills to protect and tend to herself, and yet she right back to being that little girl who stumbled onto Karen's body. She didn't want to be, but there wasn't anybody who made her feel as small and her actions as insignificant as the sniper did.

So there she was, thirteen years old with no skills other than running away and hiding in plain sight, stalking the halls to capture the man who killed her son and his father, who may have succeeded in killing the father of her daughter. She didn't understand why he had such power over her. She had lost friends in the line of duty, and yes, her child and his father weren't exactly the same as her friends, but still. They were family to her too, and the ones who kill them, she took them down. She and the others took them down. Yet it came to the sniper, she was thirteen and petrified and weak. She was the little girl who barely survived long enough to be taken in by Gloria.

Even so her ability to be invisible couldn't be used. He saw her. In the darkest of nights, in the fullest of rooms, in the murkiest of waters, he _always_ saw her. Like there was something about her that he instantly recognized. She never knew what he saw in her, or on her. Did her eye color draw his attention? Her hair color and type? Did he know her exact walk and how she stood? Was he ever close enough to recognize her scent from the scents of many others? Perhaps he was attracted the brand of fear he installed in her. Maybe that scent was like a drug to him.

She shook her head to empty it and spotted a light up ahead. She rested her finger off the trigger, approaching the light very carefully, and she discovered a flight of stairs that lead to the roof. A sniper like him would need roof access, or at least want it. The sniper was a hell of a shot, low or high ground, and if he was thinking of taking out as many people as he could before she got to him, that's where he'd be. She wasn't sure if he was the type to do that. All of his kills for himself were tied to her in some way. He never made a move to take out Caesar or Andrea or Keira or even Gloria. He went straight for Sam and Rick. It would seem he had no interest in taking out blood that wasn't hers. Rick must have either been a hit by the Governor or was simply taken out because he was with Carol, had a child with her. If the latter, the sniper could have made an exception because of that.

Climbing the stairs, Carol tucked the flashlight in her pocket and saw the door to the roof was ajar. She gulped down choking fear and proceeded, kicking it open. She groaned at the daylight, turning her head away briefly, and through the wincing pain of adjustment, her eyes fell on the sniper. He was standing by the edge of the roof, peering down with his rifle in hand.

"Stop!" she commanded. "Place your weapon on the ground, put your hands up and don't move."

A smirk slithered across his lips as he stepped back onto the rooftop. "It took you long enough."

"Don't move!" she barked. "Slowly turn toward me."

He didn't set his weapon down, and his eyes remained on the street below. "I didn't want you this close."

"Why not?"

"You'll know when I'm going to kill you," he answered. "You'll be expecting it. It ruins the atmosphere I've built."

"Don't worry. You can always build a new one in prison." She strode toward him with slow movements, her gun cupped tightly in her hands. "Now put your weapon down and put your hands up. I won't tell you again."

He chuckled. "You can stop anytime you want, Williams. It's never gone according to procedure with us."

"We are not an us," she hissed. "There is me and then there's you. I will shoot you."

"No, you won't." He turned to her now. "You never could."

Her eyes drank in the man who had been in her shadows for too many years, and she felt a shaking in her knees. There was a haunting familiarity about him. Those dark brown eyes that held no soul behind them and that whispered dark things at her, that twisted sneer on his lips. She had seen them before. She didn't know if she had seen him at the bank or while out shopping or even if she passed him on the street, but she had seen them before today. She didn't know how in the hell she could see a face like that and just walk by it. How distracted did she have to be to miss the evident evil there?

"You seem shaken." His tone was laughing, though it was humorless and cold. "What's the matter, officer?"

She thrust her gun forward to try and frighten him, unable to regain control of the fear spreading through her body. "Hands up!"

His twisted grin grew, taking pleasure in something she wasn't aware of. "How's the false Archer doing?"

"He is none of your concern."

"That's true, but he's yours." He hummed. "It's almost his birthday, if I recall."

Her body tensed, a small gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it, and her body began to tremble. Clearly it was trapped in the past, and her mind wasn't strong enough to fight. "P—put your hands up! I won't say it again!"

"How old would he have been?"

 _Twenty-two_ , her mind answered silently, her eyes glaring daggers at him, her teeth clenched.

"He would probably be in college, wanting to enroll in the police academy. He might have applied to be in the FBI one day." He then wagged a finger at her. "Or he would have gotten killed later because his bitch ass mother couldn't keep her fucking nose out of other people's lives."

"Don't you dare talk about my child!" Her voice shook, and she didn't know why she couldn't move. "You don't know anything about me or about who he was!"

"He was the son of a coward." He stepped toward her. "You don't even know what you're running from you've been running for so long."

 _What the hell was he talking about?_ "I am no coward, nor was his father." She locked eyes with him. "Put your fucking hands up now, Ed!"

His eyes flashed at the mention of his name, and his jaw tightened. "Don't say things you don't understand."

"I will kill you," she informed him, "to keep you from killing Daryl and Sophia and anybody else. I will shoot your right between the eyes and never look back."

"Lair."

"Don't push me. I don't need you to come back alive."

"You do need me," he retorted. "I have all the answers."

"To what questions? I have none!" Her voice broke at the end, and she set her jaw, moving forward again, clearing her mind of all thoughts and outcomes.

"You have thousands!"

"I do—"

"Why me?" he interrupted. "Why Sam? Why Rick? Why now Daryl? Why did he wait so long? Why didn't he target Caesar or Mika or Andrea or Keira? Why, why, why, why, why?" He chuckled, and she'd never heard a more vacant sound. "Shall I begin on the hows next?"

"Now, but I'll begin with your rights."

"You were abandoned as a child yet managed to grow up and achieve so much." He neared as her body stiffened. "The little redheaded girl, so isolated as she sobbed in the alley. Her home a pile of cardboard boxes filled with clothes from both men and woman that barely fit. The little girl who broke into motel rooms to shower and for a decent night's sleep, who shoplifted food and books to sate both hunger and loneliness."

"How could you possibly know any of that?" Nobody knew about her past. She could barely recall being younger than ten. How did he know? How long had he been watching her? What the hell was happening here?

He smiled on the left side of his face then slammed the butt of the rifle into her face, knocking her back. She felt pain erupt across her face, blood sliding out from wound on her cheek, but luckily her nose hadn't been broken. Tobin's gun had been lost behind her, and she knew what he was going to do next, so she turned onto her side and caught his leg between hers, jerking so that he fell back.

He grunted, losing the grip on his weapon, and Carol rose, knowing there was no point in trying to get her gun. He'd get his first. She straddled him and began to strangle him with her hands. She couldn't remove her cuffs to cuff him, and she didn't have any backup. If she could just knock him unconscious, she could use her belt to bind his wrists and his for his ankles. She could call for backup then. She could call Caesar from Tobin's phone or simply just dial 911. It didn't matter just as long she did get help.

He struggled underneath her, of course, trying to free himself. Her hold was unbreakable, and she minded his legs that flailed behind her, her knees digging into his upper arms to keep him from trying to choke her or throw her off. He was turning colors, and she could see that if she pushed a little more, he would be dead. She could see the light fading in his dark eyes, and she bared her teeth at the sight of his smile. He was dying at her hand, and he was smiling about it. He ceased his efforts to escape her, and he just stared back at her intensely, as if he could see her soul through her eyes and was laughing at the sight of it. There was a sickness in this man, and she couldn't wait until it was snuff out of this world.

She didn't know how any woman could bear a child this evil, and Carol suspected he killed her when he finally got his hands on a weapon. That's all he likely could do: kill. She didn't know how many people he killed before he found a weapon that really got him off, but she knew how many died at the hand of the sniper. Because of his sickness, her son would never grow into the man he wanted to be. He would never do all the things he had dreamed of, never better the world. He would never know the joy of having a child just like him. Because of this piece of shit, Rick would never see his sons on their wedding days, nor would he see his first grandchild. He would never see them graduate, never have those father-son talks that his father used to give Rick. And now maybe Daryl would never have those things with Sophia.

 _Sophia._ At the thought of her daughter, Carol's grip loosened, and she heard him say, "Feels good, doesn't it?"

She stared at him with furrowed brows, tears in her eyes, and she was shaking again. "What?"

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he repeated, staring back at her.

She stood up on unsteady legs, her fists clenched, and she slammed her boot into his face. "You son of a bitch."

"Carol!"

She turned as Caesar and Michonne ran out onto the rooftop, and she didn't understand. "C—Caesar?" She collapsed, and they ran to her. "What?"

"You're safe now. We've got you." Michonne helped Carol to feet, digging out a key from her pocket to free her wrists. "It's all right now." Her eyes drifted over to the sniper, and Caesar nodded, fingers on his throat to search for a pulse. "It's all right now."

Sirens blared around them from the street, but only now could she hear them. She was so lost in her bloodlust that the entire world went still and quiet. It made her stomach turn, and she couldn't accept that she almost kill him in cold blood. She didn't have an excuse other than she wanted to. He was down, and he had no weapon. It would have been wrong. It would have...the Devil's share, not justice, not what Rick and Sam would want, not what she wanted.

She buried her face into Michonne's shoulder and sobbed. How close to doing what he wanted her to do had she come? Oh, God.

––

When they emerged from the building, Carol saw Rosita standing by Caesar's car, a smile breaking out across her face. Carol was both glad and terrified to see her. She knew Rosita wouldn't be here if Daryl was stable and alive. She knew there was no way in hell she'd leave him alone. That's who Rosita was, and after what Daryl did for her, she was grateful to him, loyal as well. She'd wait there with him until he woke or was out of the woods. Something had to have happened to draw her from the hospital, and Caesar didn't know Carol had been kidnapped. What happened to Daryl?

Michonne broke Carol's thoughts by commanding Caesar to take Rosita home and to have Carol taken to the hospital to be examined. She didn't want to risk there being a fatal side effect to the unknown drug used to sedate her, and she didn't want Rosita at the crime scene. Her situation was complicated enough as it was. She told Caesar not to return as well. She would take things from here and let them rest while they could.

"I'm on it." Caesar set a hand on Carol's arm as a _c'mon, let's go_ gesture then dug out his keys and started for his car.

"Are you all right?" Michonne glanced over her friend.

"I don't know." She gazed at her palms, still feeling his warm skin there. "I don't know." Her voice was a whisper.

"Well, I want you evaluated as soon as possible, okay? For your own good." She grasped Carol's hand and met her eyes. "I'm here for you."

"I know." She couldn't bring herself to smile, not with what just happened on the roof and the thought of Daryl being dead fresh in her mind. "Thank you, Michonne."

Rosita hugged her arms and ambled toward Caesar's car, knowing well that Michonne wanted her out of here. She would be questioned later, after the details of how an FBI agent was shot and killed were sorted out. She was lesser of Michonne's problems right now. She silently wished her luck, taking her time to get to the car and gazing at the little worker monkeys, trying to see what they were carrying out of the building. She could always call in some favors, but she might need them for something else. Her own eyes would do. And if they didn't, Caesar's would. He was already nosy as hell, and he'll want in on anything to do with taking the sniper down.

Caesar leaned against on the hood of his car to wait for Carol, and Rosita joined him. He glanced at her but didn't say a word, and she climbed onto the hood to sit, a smile on her lips at the image of that fucker in cuffs. Her heart was heavy at the thought of Daryl, but this was a win. She would savor that.

"Now all we need is for Daryl to wake his ass up," Caesar muttered to her.

She grinned. "Yeah."

"You know you did that," he told her, referring to the situation to the left of the them.

She shook her head. "All I did was follow your lead."

"My lead can't hack files."

"I don't want any credit for this," she admitted. "I don't want anything but for this to be over."

"It is over."

"It'll be over when Daryl's comes out alive." She hugged her knees. _Or if he doesn't come out at all._ She buried her face and heaved a sigh before lifting her face. "But you're right."

"Hmm?" He peered at her. "Right about what?"

"Daryl needs to wake his ass up."

He chuckled. "I'll drive you to the hospital."

"Thanks."

Just then the sniper was escorted out of the building, an officer on each arm, his head down, and Carol felt a chill run through her. She turned as they led him toward a car, and she was thankful to have him going where he belonged. She couldn't wait for the trial. He would never see the light of day as a free man again, not if she had anything to do with it. The hunt was over, after all this time, and they had come out victorious. The emotional torment had come to rest, and the constant worry that someone she loved would die by his hand was over. She was free from the shadow of the sniper and most importantly the shadow of her fear. This entire time part of her just knew Daryl and Sophia were going to die, that there was no way this could be over with the three of them alive. She was wrong. Her baby girl was still living and breathing and safe. Daryl was a question mark, but she wasn't too concerned. He would pull through. Even if he had to do it on sheer will alone.

She inhaled and smiled a small smile to herself. _Game over, Ed._

There was a shift in the air, almost instantaneous to the thought Carol just had, and then a shot rang out. Carol's body stiffened at the sound of the gun firing, and the scene revealed itself. Ed had overpowered one of the officers, taking the gun from the belt of the other, and before they could regain themselves or restrain him, he fired three bullets. One of them hit the tire of the ambulance, and the other two were lodged in the left side of Carol's chest.

Rosita screamed, but it was an enraged sound, tangled with pain. If she had a gun, she would have shot the sniper right between his eyes, but she had no weapon. She had nothing that could help them, and covered her mouth with her hands, her inner peace shattered, the memories of Rick's funeral slamming back into her mind. The potency of that memory knocked the air out of her, and she cried out as blood seeped onto the dirty pavement.

Caesar bolted over to them, grabbing his gun from the holster and bashing him across the face with it in blind rage. When the sniper fell over, Caesar held him at gunpoint, his finger on the trigger. He was going to pull the trigger, blow his brains out all over the ground, but he saw the fucker smile as he stared at something. Caesar couldn't look. He couldn't hear. He couldn't do anything, and he fired the gun, but angled so it shot over his shoulder. He emptied the gun of its clip, dropped it on the ground and stumbled back, his eyes widening as tears spilled when he saw.

The officers who had escorted Ed from the building had regained control of him. They didn't linger on the downed detective, having been given their orders by the Captain. They now roughly shoved Ed inside the nearby police car, the one who had his gun taken looked at Williams with regret and sorrow before he slipped into the car. They took him away, and Ed watched from the window, that crude and cold smirk growing across his lips.

Michonne would have retaliated Ed's gunfire by firing back at him. It was a reflex, but she had instead lunged forward instinctively and caught Carol before she hit the ground. After having a child, her body always jerked forward to try and soften the blow, to somehow even prevent the fall. Preventing Carol from falling wouldn't have mattered, not as blood pooled profusely from the two gunshot wounds to her chest, not as the ambulance that might save her life had lost a tire. It would appear they had played right into his hands. God damn it!

"Call an ambulance!" Michonne demanded, not speaking to anybody in particular. "Carol? Carol? Can you hear me? Carol?"

Rosita had no medical knowledge, so she called for another ambulance, and she watched as the EMT began to try and prolong Carol's life. That's all he could do here. A hospital was the only thing that was going to save her life, and they not only had to wait for a goddamn ambulance, but they had to endure the drive too. She had to endure the drive. If she was even still with them by then.

Her eyes fell on Caesar who was on the ground, hands clutching his hair, staring as they worked on Carol, and she carried herself over to him. She removed his fingers from his hair and wrapped his arms around himself, holding him still, and her eyes fell on the pool of blood that was slowly sliding toward them. She buried her face in his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, finding herself in an emotional state she didn't recognize.

"Please, God, don't," Caesar sobbed under his breath so low only Rosita could hear. "Please, please, don't. God, no. Don't do this, please don't do this."

"Stay with us." Michonne's voice was clear and stern, giving Carol an order. "Stay with us, Carol."

"Stay with me," the EMT told her. "Come on now."

Choked sobs tore through Caesar and shook Rosita, and Michonne kept her eyes locked in Carol's, trying to not feel the warm blood that soaked her pants and coated her hands. The neighborhood was so devoid of noise, the sun was harshly bright above them, emphasizing the blood and the paleness of Carol's skin. Then came the vacant ring of Carol crashing followed by faint blare of sirens.

––

 _Whatever happens here today, please allow Sophia to continue leading the life she was born to live. Please allow Mika to find peace and remain kindhearted. Please do not let the twisted roots inside Lizzie take her over. Lord, please, I beg this of You. Guide Daryl into Your light or back to our daughter, please. Let the happiness in the Martinez's family grow and linger forever in their lives. Keep them safe, oh Lord. I do not ask for protection. I don't deserve it. They do, my Lord, so please watch over them and show them Your everlasting kindness._


	24. On My Terms

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

––

It took a full two months for Ed to go on trial. They were hitches in the case that they hadn't foreseen, like tying Ed to all of his murders. They couldn't. There was no evidence to prove that he ever even touched any of the weapons in the armory. He couldn't be tried for any of them. Michonne knew he had done it, but knowing and proving were too vastly different things. So they had to throw out the other cases. He could only be tried for the murders of Rick Grimes, Sam Williams, Gareth West, Tobin Reynolds and the attempted murder of Carol Williams. Michonne and the others worked day and night to ensure his attorney couldn't weasel him out of them. They were airtight, and there was no chance in hell of Ed getting off.

During that period Tobin Reynolds was buried, and Caesar and Andrea attended the service. Caesar wasn't at all fond of the man, but in his own way he did lead them to the sniper. He knew Carol would want to be here, to honor the man Reynolds tried to be and to forgive him. He didn't understand how Carol could forgive or even honor a man like Tobin, but he had to try for her sake. She couldn't be here, couldn't give her condolences to his family and advise them to reflect on his better deeds. Caesar had to do that, and Andrea. The family were thankful to have some people attend, and Caesar began to understand now why Carol did and said what she did to some of the families. He would have to thank her someday.

Unlike the crosses he normally left on the graves of the dead, he instead left a white rose. It was more for the victims than for Tobin himself. He couldn't say any kind words to them or their families or know exactly who they were, but they were tied to Tobin. He would wish them well and pray that they find peace, if they haven't already. He would find justice for them one day, and if not him then another officer, another agent, somewhere in the world would. He believed that, that's why he could forgive Tobin. God have mercy on his soul.

In addition to the funeral, Sophia was brought out of hiding. Caesar and Rosita picked her up, both happy to see her for similar and different reasons. Rosita latched on to the child like a leech, making her laugh, and she barely let go of her. Caesar couldn't openly show affection as she had no idea who he was, but he smiled at her and assured her it was over now. She asked then for her father and where Carol was. They had promised to be the ones to greet her when it was over, so Rosita told her about Daryl, encouraging her that he would pull through. She asked to see him, of course, and they took her to the hospital.

Daryl was conscious two weeks after Sophia's first visit. He was no longer critical as well. He would need extensive physical therapy, to be cared for while he recovered from his injuries, but he would just fine. They were hopeful that he would even be able to walk again. Sadly nothing could be done about his arm, even with physical therapy, but he had another arm. He seemed to find the good luck in that, because he smiling when they entered his room.

Sophia embraced her father, feeling like it had been years since they last seen and spoken each other. It had been far too long, and he vowed that they would never be apart like that again. He apologized for making her worry, and he assured her that he would be fine. Sophia was in tears, but she was pleased to be home, to see her father again. It was written all over her face.

Then came the difficult part.

No one had informed Daryl of Carol's condition. He knew the sniper had been caught, Michonne likely informed him the morning he woke up, but having no television in his room nor a phone to contact anybody, he was in the dark about the shooting. Rosita thought it would be best to tell them together, so they could lean on each other, and it was like salt in the wound to even watch. They had both been so hopeful and joyous about seeing each other, about his healing wounds, about finally being able to move on, and in a matter of seconds, they watched that all crumble.

Sophia had stopped asking about Carol shortly after she was taken to her father. She assumed she was busy working the case, and Rosita never let her watch the news or turn the channel from cartoons. She had been living with Rosita and Mika, and she thought Carol was living in her apartment, trying to tie up loose ends. In all honesty, she didn't want to consider the likelihood of Carol not joining them at some point in the future. She was a friend of her father's, and while Rosita had taken care of them, she assumed she would be in Carol's care eventually. Rosita had work and a life of her own, but Carol had taken in Mika too, so Sophia figured Carol would do the same with her until her dad was strong enough to be on his own. She didn't really have anybody else, with her uncle in jail and her mother...gone. The truth was Carol had been shot and was...alone in a hospital for months. She was all alone, and Sophia and Mika didn't know.

Daryl, who was already two shades paler than normal, paled even further. He wasn't angry at not being informed. He was calm about the entire situation. Rather he was trying to be. He wanted to know why he wasn't told. He knew the sniper had been arrested and was awaiting trial, but nobody thought to tell him Carol had been shot. It'd been _two goddamn months_ , and nobody told him. He _didn't overhear anything_. There was a panic deep in his eyes that Caesar wondered if he even knew was there, and if so, did he know the actual cause of it. Rosita had seen it too, but she thought it best to answer his questions, not ask him questions.

Carol had crashed twice—once at the site and once at the hospital. They had brought her back both times, and they immediately went into surgery. They worked efficiently and were able to save her. The doctor said she must have been holding onto the world tightly, because she came too shortly after surgery. She was weak but conscious. She needed help recalling the events of the shooting, but other than that she was the same old Carol. She was at a different hospital recovering now, but she would be released a couple days before the trial. They—Michonne, Caesar and Rosita—wondered if she was actually being discharged on that day or if it was AMA. No one asked, but they suspected. She wouldn't miss that trial for the world.

– – –

"I'm going," Daryl challenged. "You can't stop me."

"I _can_ stop you," Rosita retorted. "Easily."

"Look, all I want is be there for the trial. I'm not gonna be in danger, and I'm not gonna hurt myself. I'll be in the back with you. C'mon."

"No. The doctors agree with me. You don't need to be there. It'll pan out. Michonne worked every night for a month for this case to be airtight. He'll get life. She'll make sure of it."

"Good then I have no reason to stress and every reason to be at the trial."

"Daryl, no."

"She's going to be here," he insisted. "I haven't seen her since before I went undercover. She was just released today, and she won't come to me before the trial, but I know she'll be there. Nothin' could keep her away."

Rosita threw her head back and groaned. "No."

"Why not? I'm fine! They've said I'm stable and all of the other shit. I can go to the trial." He was begging now. "Please. Sophia will be there. Carol will be there. I have to be there too. He has to know he hasn't won. It's the only thing that'll hurt him."

Rosita pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to calm a headache that was forming.

"You took months to tell me about Carol, and this is how you can pay me back."

"You were comatose!" Rosita dropped her hand. "And it wasn't my decision. We couldn't let anybody know she was alive, okay? We needed the sniper to believe he killed her! We told you this. Nobody knew about the shooting, save for the officers that were there, the paramedic and the doctors. That's all."

"What?"

"We needed him to confess to all the murders. We needed him to feel that it was his game. It backfired on us, and I wanted to give Sophia some time to adjust to everything. I'm sorry." She crossed her arms. "You don't know how hard it was keeping this from you all, but I owed it to Rick and to Sam to try and outplay that bastard."

He nodded. "I understand. I should be there."

"Daryl." She met his eyes. "You cannot be at the trial. I can't check you out like a library book and then check you back in later. It doesn't work that way. I would take you in a heartbeat, but I can't. I literally cannot. You're not strong enough yet."

"I am!"

"He is." A voice from behind them announced.

Rosita turned and blinked. "Carol?"

She looked good, healthy. She wore a black blazer with a lavender button down shirt, black slacks, and her hair was a little messy, but it was too short for anything to really be done with it. She had to mind how she moved, due to her injuries, but overall she was good. "Hey."

He smiled slightly, staring at her. "Uhh, hi."

"Great conversation." She laughed to herself and entered. "Rosita? Could you give us a minute?"

"Sure." She closed the door on her way out.

"How are you?" Daryl inquired, not wanting the silence to settled.

"I'm well." She remained at the foot of his bed. "You?"

"I'm getting there."

She nodded and averted her eyes. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to visit."

"No, no, it's all right."

"No, it's not...all right." She sighed. "I'm the one who asked them not to inform you. It was partly to try and trick the sniper into taking the fall for all of his crimes, but mostly because I didn't want you to know."

"I was in a coma. It wouldn't have mattered."

"When you were awake...is when I asked them not to tell you," she corrected, swallowing hard.

"Oh."

She lifted her eyes. "I don't know why, if you're wondering. I just didn't want you to know. Or Sophia." She then confessed, "Mika knew."

"What?"

"I told her a month ago. I had to call Ryan and tell him what happened, and I had to tell Mika too. She kept it from Sophia, and Ryan made it easier by taking her when he could." She dropped her gaze again.

"Why did you tell her and not Sophia? I understand not telling me, but she's our daughter. She should have known before Mika."

"Mika is my daughter too, Daryl." She shook her head. "Sophia doesn't know who I am to her. There was no point adding more stress on her. For God's sake, she's ten years old and in less than a year she'd been kidnapped, almost raped, her father beaten into a coma, and I didn't think she should know her mother had been shot twice in the chest. To this day, I still believe my choice was best for her."

"Almost raped?" He gazed at her.

"Yes, by the same Joe whose gang beat you. He worked close with Phillip, knew the dangers of the sniper and that's why he tried to kill you. Phillip had him thrown out when he tried to rape Sophia."

"How do you know that?"

"I spoke with Phillip, to let him know his "weapon" was going to be joining him. He told me everything. He tried to work out a deal. Apparently prison isn't his cup of tea."

"A deal?"

"He wanted me to have him transferred, offered to tell me the truth, but I declined. He told me anyway, thinking I would somehow feel grateful to him for sparing my child's innocence, but all I felt was nothing." She raised her head. "I've felt nothing for weeks now, and it's terrifying."

"What do you mean?"

"I almost killed him," she whispered, tears in her eyes now, her voice shaky. "Ed and I were alone on the roof, and...I almost killed him. With my own two hands. I could feel..." she trailed off.

"But you didn't."

"I was so close to killing him, Daryl." Her voice broke. "I...I couldn't think or see. I was just angry and then he...he asked me if it felt good."

"C'mere," he told her, holding his hand out. "I can't come to you, so please."

She walked over to him, he took her hand, and she sat on the bed beside him, shaking her head. "Nothing you say will change what I did."

"You're not him, Carol. You'll never be him, and he didn't win. He's going to prison for the rest of his life, and you're free. Sam and Rick were avenged the second you arrested him. You did this your way, even if you slipped up. He's going down on your terms, and you're alive." He released her hand to cup her cheek, and she closed her eyes, tears falling down her cheeks. "He didn't harden you. He doesn't have that power over you. You're still the same woman I met in a bar all those years ago. No, no, I take that back. You're _better_."

She chuckled and opened her eyes. "I think you need glasses."

"I think you need to stop bein' so hard on yourself. Rage takes over us all, but you didn't let it win. You didn't let him win, and whatever power he thought he had over you is gone. You saved our daughter from having to live her life in fear, and you saved me from having to live a live without Sophia...without...you."

She saw the tips of his ears redden, and she laughed when he tried to correct what he said, moving his hand to rub the back of his neck.

"I—I just meant that, you know, I have—I'll have such a, uh...uh, good—"

"I get it." She sniffed. "Thank you."

He lowered his head as his face burned. "Good. Uh, you're welcome, I mean."

"The trial begins tomorrow morning at eight." She exhaled deeply. "I'll pick you up at seven, get some food and change you into something a little...nicer."

He nodded.

"It'll be over soon, that's for sure." She rested her hands in her lap. "I don't know how I feel about that. How should I feel even?"

"You'll find out tomorrow," he suggested.

"I suppose I will." She set her hand over his and squeezed. "I'm taking you home, you know."

"Hmm?" His brows met as he tilted his head, not sure what she was taking about.

"When they discharged you, you're going to be staying me and the girls. I have the room, and I'll be taking a much needed vacation. I'll take care of you, and Rosita will be there to help."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to do it." She searched his eyes. "I'm not taking no for an answer, and you have nowhere else to go. Just nod your head."

He smirked and nodded.

"Good. I have to go, but I'll be back tomorrow."

"I look forward to it."

She leaned toward him, groaning softly at the tug in her chest, and she kissed his forehead. It was a thank you and an apology. It was guilt and gratitude. It was what she couldn't say in words. She didn't know if he could feel all the things she wanted to say, but this was all she could do. Maybe one day she would find the words, but for today this would have to do.

"Tomorrow." She stood up and walked out of his room.

He stared at the door, the tips of his ears still red, and he smiled to himself.

"Okay, lover boy." Rosita smirked at him from the doorway. "Enough with the eyes."

"What eyes?"

"I may not be wearing contacts right now, but even I can see the eyes." She shook her head. "She must be good to have you so wrapped up what? Thirteen years later?"

"Shut up." He glared.

"It's adorable. You have a crush." She laughed at him, and he blushed even more. "Wait till I tell Sophia."

"Tell her? I don't have a crush." He reached for the cup of water on the table beside him.

"It's funny that when I think back to how...enthralled you were with that woman, and knowing it was Carol—"

"It ain't like that."

"You had feelings for her back then," Rosita told him, not playing around. "Do you now?"

"I don't know her."

"You know her enough to know about Sam and Rick. That's personal shit, Daryl. If I hadn't been there when it all went down, I would have had to wait ten years before she told me." She studied him. "I just want to know. I'm your family, and I care."

"I might have back then, but...things are different now."

"She's different now too. If you want more from your relationship, you can't push. You can't be selfish and expect more. She has recovering to do, and I don't mean from the two bullets she took in the chest."

"Why do I even bother talkin'? You aren't hearing anything I'm saying."

"I am, and I'm just warning you to be careful. I know you, Daryl. Once you love someone, you love them for the rest of your life."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"You guys must have felt something," Rosita commented, "to seek each other out to meet again and to care enough to end it before something became of it. You wanted to protect her from your enemies, and she wanted to protect you from the sniper. That means something, even if you want to pretend it doesn't." She pushed off the door frame. "I'm going to grab Abe and pick up dinner for the girls."

He nodded and swallowed water as she left, her words lingering with him. He knew Carol was the type to care about people, even ones who didn't deserve it, and he knew that's why she backed off. He did the same, because he didn't want blood on his hands. Was that true? Or did Rosita know him better than he knew himself? Did he have feelings for her? He said he did back then, and that was true. He was starting to feel...something. Did that come back? Or did he form these feelings over the course of their kidnapping?

He lowered his eyes to the ice in his cup and exhaled. No, even if he did, no. He couldn't offer her any kind of life like this, and he didn't know what he could do with his life after his PT was over. She was just being kind, and he wouldn't take advantage of it. When he was able, he was gone. He couldn't risk having anything happen between them, so he would leave. He still had money in an account the cops didn't find. It was best for her.

He looked out the window as rain began to fall. It had to be.

––

"I haven't been signed off for active duty," Carol explained to Michonne, "but in another month, I should be."

"That's good. You're healing fast."

"Always do." She inhaled. "How does it look?"

"It's great. It's a done deal."

She nodded. "Thank you. For everything."

"Why does this sound like goodbye?" She nudged her gently with her elbow. "We'll be back to chasing murderers in no time."

"I miss it already."

She laughed. "Well, I'll save the best for you."

She wanted to smile but couldn't. "I should be thrilled, but I just feel empty still."

"It's because Rick and Sam are still gone. Catching him didn't bring them back, and you don't know how they feel about all of this." She met her eyes. "They'd be proud of you, Carol, like I'm proud of you."

"I hope so." She blew out a sigh. "When this trial is over, I'm going to their graves."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, no. I need to do this alone." She smiled. "Thank you for the offer, though, Michonne. I appreciate the thought."

"Whatever you need."

"Coffee, but I don't want it at the same time."

"I'll buy you lunch instead."

"That would be great."

"Do you need to pick up Mika or Sophia?"

"No. Andrea took the girls out of the city for today. They need fun, and I need to wrap up some business before they come back tonight."

"Are you done with your business?"

"Almost. I have two more stops, but they can't wait until we've eaten."

"What are you in the mood for?"

"You pick. It'll be my treat."

"You don't have to."

"I know, but I want to. So, where to?"

– – –

"So, it's you." Merle tilted his head. "What brings you here?"

"I just wanted to see you." Carol laced her fingers together on the table. "Have a seat. I brought coffee."

"Is this an interrogation?" He accepted the coffee.

"No, I just wanted to speak with you in private."

"About?" He drank from the cup.

"Your sentence."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you care about that?"

"I can't make any promises, but I may be able to make a deal." She met his eyes. "If you're willing to testify against the sniper, that is."

"I heard y'all caught that son of a bitch. Feel good, doesn't it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Justice and all that." He leaned on the table. "Good on you."

"Thank you."

"What kinda deal are you thinkin' about making?" He studied her.

"You were sentenced to life with no parole. It's not much, but if you testify, I might be able to strike a deal that eventually returns your ability to get parole." He snorted, and she sighed. "Is that a no?"

"You're cute." He chuckled. "Not every story gets a happy endin', you should know that better than anybody."

"Merle, you could get out of here. You can salvage some portion of a life and not die in here alone. Let me help you."

"Look, Williams, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but no. I won't let you do this."

"Why not?"

"Because I belong here. This is my punishment, and I ain't gonna fight it."

She sank back in her chair. "You want to be here?"

"There are worse places I could be." He shrugged a shoulder. "You mean well, but no thanks."

She nodded. "I just—"

"I know. I get it, but I killed people too. My reasons don't justify their deaths."

"Do you want an update on how Daryl's doing?"

"I already know. That beaner cop told me."

"Merle." She glared, and he held his hands up as an apology. "Wait, who?"

"Martinez. He's been comin' by every other week, letting me know how my brother is, how Sophia is. You should tell him to bring me coffee too. Maybe some donuts."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Since we don't have any business here, I should leave."

"Wait, wait, let me savor this."

"Fine. You have five minutes."

"How are you?" He slowly drank his coffee. "I heard you were shot."

"I'm healing. I'll have scars, but that's nothing new."

He nodded. "Could you promise me something?"

"That depends. What do you want?"

"Just look out for him for me." He looked into her eyes, and she could see that was the biggest regret he had. "I never could, but you? You can keep him safe, keep his nose clean. I know it's a lot to ask, but you're the only one I can ask."

"I can do that." She nodded. "I will."

"Good. Now don't come back here unless it's to visit."

"You have my word."

"Why?" Merle suddenly questioned. "Why try and help me?"

"Do you want my honest answer?"

"I do."

"I don't want Daryl to get a phone call one day and discover you've been stabbed to death, or suffocated in your sleep or worse. It might not happen, but I don't want him to experience that pain."

"You sweet on him?"

"No." She wrapped her fingers around her cup of tea. "I just...know what it's like to experience that first hand, and Daryl's been through so much these past few months. Besides I thought you two could be roomies and I wouldn't have to keep putting the toilet seat down."

He smirked. "He's not too bad about that."

"I'll find out. He's staying with me once he's released from the hospital. Just for a bit."

"I figured as much."

"Well, have a nice day, Merle. I don't know if I'll be back to see you."

"Just leave it at that." He rose and held his hand out.

She stood up and shook his hand.

– – –

It was the morning of the trial. Carol had tried to persuade the girls to go to school, but they wouldn't. She gave them both cleaning duty for a week, and they headed out to pick up Daryl. Caesar had arrived before them, Rosita brought a suit for him to wear, and Carol and Rosita both helped him change into it. Carol decided that a nice shirt and jeans would be fine for next time. Rosita agreed.

"I'll meet you at the courthouse."

"What?" Daryl frowned. "You aren't coming with us?"

"No. I have business to attend to, but I'll be there later. Rosita and Caesar will take you and the girls to breakfast and then the courthouse."

"What business?" He narrowed his eyes.

"It's private." She offered him a small smile. "Enjoy some time out of this hospital."

"We'll make sure he does." Rosita gripped the wheelchair and guided him toward the elevator.

"Are you sure you don't want company?" Caesar asked. "I'm here for you."

"I need to do this alone. I've delayed it for far too long, and with this trial... I'm going to need some space before." She set a hand on his shoulder. "You have more important things to worry about. Take care of Daryl for me, and don't eat bacon. Andrea told me to tell, and Rosita knows too."

"Thank you for ruining my morning."

"I try." She smirked and pinched his cheek. "Go."

He caught the elevator with Rosita and Daryl.

She drew in a long breath and held her head high before strolling out of the building to find the therapist Michonne had suggested. It was within walking distance, and Andrea going to pick her up in half an hour. She just needed strength, and she needed to know how to calm herself down when they went over the details of Sam and Rick's murders. She had plans on returning, of course. She was long overdue for therapy.

––

It was crazy outside the courthouse, reporters were everywhere, people were everywhere. Carol had sent Andrea ahead to find the others, and she waited outside, looking through the crowd. She couldn't see through the people gathered there, but she could feel him close by. Her stomach twisted up in knots, and she spotted the officers escorting him into the building.

He looked over then. It was as if God Himself wanted Ed to see her standing there, because the people that had been bunched together dispersed and she was exposed. She locked eyes with him, he didn't react, and she flashed him a slight smile before he was led into the building.

Once he was out of sight, she set a hand on her stomach and expelled the shaky breaths that had been building against her throat. She leaned against the wall and even her breathing, swallowing and clearing her head. It was time to be brave. She knew how this would play out in court. She was positive in fact, so she needed to wear a brave face and let him know that though he gave her many, many heartaches and scars, he did not break her. He _did not_ win.

– – –

The trial seemed to go on for hours. Witnesses recalled their encounters on the stand, evidence was presented, Peletier's lawyer fought more with his opponent than for Ed, and all too soon it was time for her statement. She hadn't realized it but the entire time Sophia had been holding her hand, and when she was called to the stand, Sophia gripped her so tight. Carol smiled at her daughter and slowly let go out of her hand.

She made her pledge to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. She then recounted the events leading up to Sam's murder. She could feel a wave of emotion climbing up her throat, and she tried to be strong. She tried to keep it back and calmly tell the court what happened. However by the time she got to the walk with Sam, her voice broke. She had been blinking back tears long before then, and she paused to recompose herself. That's when she saw the smile spread across the sniper's lips, and it wasn't just her who saw it. It was impossible to ignore a smile that dark and twisted yet filled with amusement and pride.

"I'm sorry." She cleared her throat.

"It's fine," he softly assured her. "Now, could you tell us what happened?"

"I had just turned in a vital piece of information on the sniper. I had been working the case for months, and I needed time off. I had promised my—my son—" she stopped again and took a deep breath. "I had promised Sam that we would take a vacation. I'd promised him so many times, but work always intervened."

He nodded her on.

"We were on her way home when—" She could hear the rifle firing in her mind, even though she hadn't that day. Her throat tightened, and she pressed on. "When Sam was shot, and...he—he died in my—in my arms." She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes squeezing shut.

Sophia looked at her dad, feeling heavyhearted by Carol's story. He was watching Carol intensely, and she could tell he wanted to hug her just as much as Sophia did. She could see that Caesar and Andrea felt the same, and she closed her eyes. She could picture it all in her head, and it broke her heart. She couldn't imagine what it must be like for Carol to have not only been there but to be the mother of the murdered child. He was the same age as she was too. God, poor Carol. She said a silent prayer for Carol, knowing that it wasn't okay to talk right now, and she felt her dad's hand on the back of her head. She opened her eyes, and he smiled a little at her, seeming to know what she was doing, and she smiled back, taking his hand and holding it.

Andrea held tighter to Caesar's hand, grateful that Keira was with her babysitter and not here to witness this. She had never heard Carol tell the story with such...emotion. When Andrea first was informed, Carol's voice was devoid of feeling. She was hollow, and it reflected in her eyes and in her body language. It was strange to see her express her emotions, as if this was the first time she had. Perhaps it was. She might have kept it all bottle up for the last twelve or so years, not letting a single tear out when she felt her allotted mourning period was done. There was no such thing as "allotted mourning period", especially not when a piece of your soul is taken forever from the world.

Caesar was positive the blood flow in his hand had been cut off, but if it made Andrea feel better, he didn't mind. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. It was as if his emotions were cut off, and he felt odd. As he listened to Carol's testimony, he felt blank for some reason. There Carol was, taking the biggest step of her life, and yet he was still stuck in the past, in his losses. Carol and Karen were the brave ones, and he was the one who didn't move forward. He felt guilty for having this unveiled to him at this moment given it belonged to Sam and Rick and Carol, but he knew it wasn't his choice. When today was over, he needed to make peace with everything that happened. Karen, Sam, Rick. He kept trying to move on, but his heart was never in it. Guilt consumed him, and guilt nearly got him killed. Andrea was right. He needed to work through this before they tried for another child. His family was the most important thing to him, and he needed to do this for them.

Andrea peeked at her husband's face when he suddenly—and loudly—exhaled. She mouthed, _You okay?_

He nodded.

In the back pew, Lori Walsh sat with her legs crossed, hands intertwined together in her lap, eyes on the detective speaking. She hadn't told Carol or even Shane that would be attending the trial. She wasn't sure if she wanted to, but in the end she knew she had to. There was little to debate. The man she loved, the father of her son, had been killed by Ed Peletier, the sniper, and his shadow has haunted her best friend for years. She had to be here today. And did Carl.

Her eyes lowered to where he son sat beside her, watching Detective Williams talk about his half-brother's funeral, the day his father was killed, and he clenched his jaw. He wasn't angry at anybody, and he knew his father and brother would have justice. He wished that he could have done more. It was silly, he was barely a fetus then, but he still wished he could have changed things. Maybe Sam didn't have to die, or his dad. He knew they did, because if they hadn't, his little sister wouldn't be alive. Shane might not be in his life. He wished Carol didn't have to feel all that pain. It was evident on her face and her shaky hands. He was proud of her, and he was grateful that she risked it all to find his dad's and brother's killer. He couldn't wait for this trial to be over, for Ed to be behind bars and to be able to thank Carol.

When Carol was released from the stand, she stepped out of the courtroom, and Lori followed.

"Carol."

She came to a halt and turned. "Lori."

Lori embraced her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was coming. It was a last minute decision."

"It's fine." Carol smiled. "It's so good to see you."

"You too." She pulled back. "I came to see you at the hospital, but you were resting. I couldn't stay long either."

"Andrea told me you stopped by."

"How are you holding up?"

"Better than I thought I would," she admitted. "It's...going to be a long time before I'm okay with this, but...knowing he's behind bar for the rest of his life will help. Uh, how are you?"

"Shaky. To see the man who took my husband and my son's father away, have him been sitting only ten or so feet away from me, is difficult. A lot more difficult than I thought it'd be." Carol nodded. "Umm, I should get back in there. I don't want to leave Carl in there alone."

"After the trial, do you want to come back to my place?" Carol offered. "I could use company."

"Of course." She beamed. "Just let me know where you live now."

"I'll meet you out here afterwards."

"Okay."

Carol ran her hands through her short hair and snuffled, trying to shake off the sorrow setting on her heart. She took a few breaths and prepared herself for going back into the courtroom. She was emotionally spent, but she needed to be in there, see this through till the end like she planned.

"You're not here alone, y'know."

She smiled at the sound of the his voice and nodded. "Yeah, I know."

He strolled over to her. "Good, 'cause I wanted to let you know I'm proud of you."

"Well, thank you." She wrapped her arms around Carl and hugged him. "I'm proud of you too."

"I'm serious."

"I know." She released him. "Boy, you look like your father."

"Really?" He smiled at that.

"Really." She returned it. "It's good to see you."

"Same to you. I haven't seen you in a while. It's weird that this is what brought Mom and me up here." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm glad though. We all need him to pay for this actions, and we all need support."

"Yeah, we do."

He swallowed hard. "When you...talked about my dad...how he died, I felt...helpless. Like, I know there wasn't anything I could do, but I still feel like I didn't do my best. I know it's stupid. So stupid. Ugh, I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"Don't feel stupid." She shook her head. "I wish I could change things, but I know that this all happened for a reason. I still want to change things here and there, but who knows what our lives would be like, you know? Would you be big brother Carl? Would I have...have what I have now? Who can say really? We just have to make the best with what we have, and we have a lot. I miss them every day, but I'm lucky to have my family."

He nodded. "Well, I know one thing."

"What?"

"You'd still be my godmother, and you'd still be...my hero."

Tears burned in her eyes. "Your hero?"

"It's silly, but you've been my hero since I was four. Mom and Shane too, but it's different with you. You're like the toughest person I know. You always come back from stuff. Like when you were shot, when you lost Sam and Dad, when you were kidnapped by drug lords or whatever. Yet you still send me those neon pink fuzzy socks as a joke on my birthday." He smirked. "You still treat me like I'm four too."

"I love you too, Carl." She hugged him.

He hugged her back. "I figured you could use some cheering up. It's true though. All of it."

"I know. Let's get back in there."

"A sundae if he goes away for life," Carl bet. "With extra whipped cream and cherries."

"Oh, you're on." She was happy to have him and Lori there, but there was an ache that devoured that happiness, as well as the relief and joy of Ed going away for life. She didn't know how long she would feel this way, and she hoped it wasn't contagious. Carl and Lori were in decent moods considering, and she didn't want to bring them down too. It was that simply the agony of her loss outweighed the joy of her victory.

––

This was it. All of the testimonies had been given, every argument had been made, and this was it. The jury had come to a consensus, and all of the air flooded from the room. It wasn't just Carol who felt this way either. It seemed to take years for the woman to announce their verdict.

"We find the defendant, Edward Peletier," she spoke to the court, "guilty of murder..."

She added the charges, but all Carol could hear was cheering. She felt people hugging her, rubbing her back and arm, telling her congratulations and other kind things, but she didn't register it. Her body was numb and still, and her eyes fell on the man who had taken away her child and a good friend. She gazed at him, long and hard, burning holes into his face.

His face was emotionless even now, but in those dark eyes anger brimmed. She could see it as plain as he could see the sorrow in her eyes. He felt his loss. He didn't have to express it, and she knew he wouldn't, but just knowing that he had lost, Sam and Rick had been avenged. She smiled. It was over. After all these years justice had been served and God smiled down on her. Sam and Rick surely must also be smiling. It was over.

––

The celebratory dinner was at Carol's place with so much takeout and wine and juice and laughter. Shane drove up with Judith to join them, and Carol was happy to see both of them. Mika and Sophia were babysitting the little bundle of joy. They were playing with the leftover Solo cups, and Carol could see how close Sophia and Mika had become. It was sweet. Sophia had a sister, and soon she would know she had a mother.

"When I heard her say guilty, I screamed," Lori admitted. "Did you hear? It probably sounded like a dying bird."

"That was you?" Carl looked embarrassed. "Smooth, Mom, real smooth." He went to the kitchen to grab another egg roll, and Lori smacked his butt with a throw pillow.

"Don't feel bad. Caesar jumped up, like a fangirl." Andrea smirked at him.

"I did not." He glared slightly at her. "I jolted."

"Two feet in the air." Andrea laughed at the flush on his cheeks.

Lori smiled. "God, he's locked away for life. This feels...so good."

"It really does." Shane laced his fingers through hers.

There was an untouched glass of wine on the table Carol had poured for Rick, and Carol had been staring at it the entire evening, halfheartedly listening to the conversation. Only Daryl had noticed. Everybody else was caught up in celebrating, laughing over small things and eating. Only Carol and he had non-alcoholic drinks, that could also be the reason. Everyone was happily buzzed.

Carol excused herself from the group and traipsed to the office they were turning into a bedroom for Daryl. She heard his chair behind her and faced him. "I'm okay, Daryl."

"You're not."

"I'm...exhausted. I've met my limit for emotional exhaustion." She sat in a chair, and he moved closer to her. "We should tell Sophia tonight. I think it's a good time."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She smiled encouragingly at him. "Are you ready?"

"I'm still her dad. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Ready for what?" Sophia stood in the hall with a bag of Solo cups. "I was just taking these to the kitchen. Judy broke a few of the others, and Carl threw his away by mistake."

"Come here." Carol waved her in.

She set the cups on the desk and walked over to them. "What's up?"

"We need to talk to you." Carol grasped her hand. "It's important."

"Are you okay?" She looked from Carol to her dad.

"Yes, we're both fine." He promised, "It doesn't have to do with our health."

She nodded and relaxed. "So what is it?"

"Sophia, honey." Carol paused and braced herself. "I'm your mother, Sophia."

She was quiet, however her eyes did widen.

"It was a complicated situation, and I couldn't keep you. You know about Sam and the sniper. You know what happened, and I couldn't let him hurt you. I had to—" Carol cut off when Sophia hugged her tightly. "Sophia?"

"I knew it." She was crying. "I knew you were my mom! I was right!"

"You knew?" Daryl shook his head. "How?"

"Why else would you let me stay with her? Of course she's my mom." She started to shake. "I knew it."

"What's wrong?" Carol smoothed down her hair. "You sound happy, but you're trembling."

"It's just... If you're my mom then Sam is my brother. And he's gone. That snake killed him."

"Don't be sad. He's found peace and justice was served. It's all okay now." She kissed her temple. "I'm so sorry I gave you up. I will never give you up again."

Sophia pulled back. "I understand why you had to and why Dad never told me."

"Dad didn't know," Daryl informed her. "I only found out a while ago."

"Really?" She rubbed at her eyes.

"Yep."

"So you don't hate Mom?" She watched him closely. "You know the story, so you don't hate her?"

He hesitated, his eyes unable to meet Carol's. "No. No, I don't hate Carol."

Sophia beamed and carefully hugged her father.

Carol rubbed her back gently and smiled at Daryl. "Here we thought we were going to surprise her."

"Shoulda told you, it's hard to surprise her." He returned her smile. "I guess you'll learn."

"Since we're going to be living here," Sophia pulled back, "does that mean you'll be together?"

"No," Carol quickly responded. "I'm going to take care of him until he's strong enough to be on his own. Then we'll figure out what to do about you."

"Oh." Her face fell. "Okay."

"Hey, you still gained a mother." Carol reached over and rubbed her cheek. "You don't need us to be together for us to be a family."

"That's true." She smiled for them. "I'm gonna go tell Mika." She ran from the room.

"Speaking of," Carol commented, "we need to get you back to the hospital."

"At nine," he added. "I'll go back at nine."

She set her hand over his. "Okay, till nine." She rose and took the cups to the living room.

Daryl was happy, but still felt small pangs of pain at the thought of how quick Carol shot down the suggestion of them ever getting together. He didn't want to consider why, because no matter what he felt, it was from the past. He would get over. He had to. He should channel this as fuel for his PT, and when he was better, he wouldn't feel this way anymore. Sophia had parents, a home, friends and she was safe. That's all that mattered.


	25. On The Road To Recovery

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

It had rained through the night, the grass was wet with morning dew, and it was quiet. You could hear pen drop from miles away. It was tranquil here, and as Carol made her way through the headstones, she felt that tranquility seep through her boots and into her body. She found the two marble headstones, damaged slightly from weather and time, and she lowered herself down onto her knees.

Long ago Rick had requested to be buried by his family, and since his parents hadn't died yet, he was buried next to his son. The plot had been for Carol originally, but she gave it up for him. He needed it, and she didn't mind letting Rick be beside the only child he'd ever know for eternity.

She brushed her fingers over the cold, moist stone. She hadn't brought flowers, just a few toys from his room. She placed two on the headstone and his favorite two in the grass. They were worn and hot glued back together. He took care of them, but she'd stepped on one or two of them every few months. He made an effort to try and keep them in his room, but somebody had to clean it. That somebody was her, and she had broken quite a few before he learned to put them all up. He was such a thoughtful child.

"I miss you," she whispered, her voice deep and tears abundantly glided down her cheeks. "I miss you every day, Sam."

The wind blew nippy air her way, and she shook yet it wasn't from the breeze. It was from an inner chill. It was such a gray day, considering the previous one was bright and sunny, her longtime enemy finally defeated on her terms. The days mirrored her emotions, it appeared. She wasn't sure how she felt coming out here alone for the first time, but she needed this solitary time with them. She had neglected this for so long for fear of reliving it all. Every drop of blood, every tear stained reflection, every cry, every anguished scream and every breakdown. She was terrified of seeing the look in Sam's eyes all over again: wide and glossy and empty. Those eyes that held such joy, passion, laughter and scheme such schemes for her birthday or Christmas or Mother's Day. Those eyes that assured her time and again that she was on the correct path, that her blank and isolated childhood was worth it, because it lead her to him. Those beautiful blue eyes.

She could remember on days when she and Rick hadn't fought, she would wake up to pancakes and freshly fruit chopped up in a bowl that Sam would stumble in to her bedroom with. Rick had helped cook, but Sam was a big boy. He could the tray all by himself. His toothy smile, his unkempt light hair, and his little feet. She used to kiss them often when he was a baby, along with his tiny fingers and palms. She could remember his little kicks and his giggle. She could had never heard a sound more...heartwarming and precious as his little laugh. And his grin. On the darkest days of her job, she would take one look at his face, at that sloppy, mischievous grin, and she knew that she would find whatever killer she was chasing. She would make the world better, because that smile was worth protecting. His and many others, varying in age and race, but still as vital and invaluable as air.

"He's in prison now. Ed Peletier. He's behind bars, paying for what he did to you and your father." She knotted her hands together. "I thought I would feel the most...blissful relief, knowing he could never harm another family as he had harmed ours, but...I don't—I still don't feel anything. Maybe Michonne was right. Maybe I'm just overwhelmed. Who can really say?"

There a moment of silence before she spoke again.

"I'm l—lost, Sam. I don't know where to go now. I mean...for years my goal was tracking down the sniper, making him suffer as I have suffered, but that's been laid to rest. He's gone, and I'm so lost." She moved the little hairs that brushed her forehead away. "I don't know where I should go, what I should do next. I feel...disconnected. When you died...everything I dreamed, everything I wanted...vanished, and all that was left was a need to hunt down the bastard that took you from me."

She grew silent again, softly sobbing, not minding the dew seeping through her jeans. She sucked in a breath and brushed her finger over a few blades of grass. "I don't know what comes next—with Sophia and Daryl. I don't know how...to be a mother. I couldn't protect you, and just because one monster is locked away doesn't mean another one won't arise. I love your sister, but I sometimes wish Phillip had never told me she was mine. I feel aw—awful for even saying that, but God what else could happen to her? She's been in such pe—peril, and that was before she or I knew she was mine. I don't want to think what could happen to her further down the road.

"And Daryl. He'd never forgive me if I asked him to take Sophia and leave." She sniveled and exhaled, wiping her eyes. "I sometimes think it'd be best if he hated me. Then he would leave. Or he'd stick around and make sure Sophia and I spend time together. Probably the latter. Sophia wants me in her life, and Daryl wouldn't do anything to hurt her. That's...what I love about him. It doesn't matter what he feels, only her. I dislike that about him too, only because I know he's going to get himself hurt because of it one day."

Shifting on the grass, she crossed her legs. "It's ironic that I've never had a family—one related to me by blood—before you, and if I did, I don't remember them. Yet now I have so much family, I have no clue what to do with it. Heh. I love them all so much, but...I think I need time for myself now. I don't know how much time, but I can't just jump back into my old routine. So many things have changed, I've changed, and...I need time." She tilted her head back so that she could look at the sky. "I'll be back often. I promise."

The clouds blocked the sun, but there was no sign of rain yet. It was nice and calm, and it soothed the sorrow that had flooded Carol. Slowly her tears stopped falling, and she spoke more to Sam and even to Rick. She knew there was so much she needed to say, and it wasn't all to them. Perhaps when she returned, she would know what those words were.

"I love you, Sam. I _will_ be back."

– – –

"All right, girly." Rosita handed a drink to Sophia. "Calm down. Daryl needs some rest. He overdid in PT it today."

"I'm fine." He adjusted his pillow. "I didn't overdo it."

"Uh-huh."

"How was your day?" He turned to his daughter.

"It was fine." She worked on the last bit of math homework. "It sucks that Carol has to leave for a while."

"What?" His eyes flickered to Rosita.

"Yeah, she spoke with Michonne and left this morning. I'm watching the girls for an unspecified time."

"You don't know when she's coming back?"

"She said she'd call."

"She didn't tell me she was leaving." He frowned.

"She knew I'd tell you," Sophia suggested. "I do see you every day, and she knows that."

"True, but I don't know. I thought by now she would tell me about her leaving in person."

"She didn't even tell me." Rosita tried to cheer him up. "Michonne did. I understand her needing time away. I get it. I love babysitting the girls. I have time on my hands since the investigation on me has been suspended due to the sniper case." She wondered when Michonne was going to call her about that. It'd been months now. Was she delaying out of spite?

"I hope she's okay."

"I doubt she is. She wouldn't feel the need to leave if she was."

"Then I hope she'll be okay."

"Me too."

"Me three." Sophia set her pencil down. "I'm hungry."

"Let's go hit up the snack machine then." Rosita grabbed her purse. "I hope Carol's paying me. I'm two seconds away from being a broke as hell."

He smirked. "Get me somethin' too."

"I'll pick up some lime Jell-O from the cafeteria." She smirked. "C'mon, kid."

He watched them scurry off and his frown returned. He wondered what was going on with Carol. He had seen it the day in court when the sniper was charged and at the dinner. He suspected even more after their talk. This was bound to happen. She had achieved a goal and now had nothing to chase. He'd be lost once or twice himself. He hoped she found what she was looking for.

– – –

Carol found herself at the prison where Ed Peletier would live out the rest of his days. She had left home this morning, explaining herself only to Michonne, and she would speak with Rosita and Daryl after. For now she went where her gut led her, and it led her here. It wasn't surprising. He had answers to questions she might not even have thought to ask, and he may not share them, but there was chance he might.

She sat down across from him, hands in her lap, eyes guarded, her heart racing. She did everything she could do to compose herself, to not show the anxiety boiling inside her. She inhaled calmly and met his eyes. "So it's Ed Peletier."

"So they tell me." He studied her face.

"I have—"

"—questions?" he finished. "I know."

"It's not unbelievable. You killed my child instead of me. Anyone would want to ask why."

"There was no point in killing you." He shifted back in his chair. "The goal was to get you off my back."

"No, it wasn't."

A smirk crossed his lips. "Can you read minds now?"

"If the goal to get me off your back, you went about it the wrong way. You killed my child right in front of me." She leaned forward. "You wanted me to hate you. You wanted me to chase."

"And chase me you did." He chuckled, and the sound made her skin want to crawl off her body and across the country.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why did you kill my son? Why not just kill me? It would have been easier."

"Easier? I don't do anything that makes my life easier _._ That's boring. There's no fun to be had when you do things because they're easy. I like challenges. The more difficult the better." He brushed this thumb over the handcuffs. "As for your son...well, it's a long story that began long before he was a twinkle in Officer Grimes' eye."

"Would you care to share it?"

"No."

"Why not? You have no power anymore. You're locked in a cell all by yourself everyday for the rest of your pathetic life." She searched his eyes. "You lost."

"And you won?" He smiled, his eyes locked with hers. "You still have questions, and that means I still have power. I won't answer any of the whys or hows. You don't deserve to know."

"Deserve to know?" Tears burned in her eyes. "You son of a bitch, you murdered my son! You took away his and his brother's father! You're the reason I lost ten years with my daughter!" She slammed her hands on the table when she shot up, the chair falling back onto the floor with a clatter. "And I don't deserve to know?!"

"When you put it like that...no, you don't deserve anything."

She snarled at him and stood back before she hurt him. "Or maybe you don't even know why you did any of it. Maybe you were just bored and wanted to play God. Maybe you're too scared to kill me. You had years of opportunities, but you never took the shot." Her body shook with anger, her teeth were bared at him, and she had to take another step back. "You're a coward."

She walked toward the door when he called to her, and she halted. "What?"

"Curiosity," he repeated.

"You... you did all of this our of curiosity?!" She whirled around, and he nodded. "Why? What did I do that made you so curiosity you had to play with me like a lab rat?"

"When you were a child, do you remember being homeless?"

"You—you knew me when I was a child?" She approached the table. "You mentioned something similar to me before on the roof. What do you know about me as a child? Huh?"

"You won't believe me, but you're right: I was bored." He lifted his head. "You were probably nine or ten years old when I first met you. I remember you were wearing a brown dress with two pigtails and white shoes. I remember because you were outside of church with your parents, jumping in puddles."

"My parents?" she whispered.

"I never knew their names. I didn't care. I just thought it was odd that they would let their little girl wander around by herself so often."

"Is that all?"

"No, no that isn't all. Have a seat, Williams." He waited, and she picked up her chair and sat. "Good girl."

She clenched her jaw. "What else?"

"Well, I think a week or two passed. I was in an alley, bored as I am today, killing a few rats, and you and your mom walked by. I assume it was your birthday. You had cupcakes. You saw me, tugged on your mom's sleeve and came into the alley. You brought me a yellow and white frosted cupcake with two balloons sticking out of it. You told me to have a great day and then left with your mom." He chuckled. "Your mother was a dumb cunt."

Carol glowered. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, but you don't remember her, so you can't really argue with me."

"You're wasting my time."

"I followed you home," he quickly revealed, and she narrowed her eyes. "I don't remember the house at all. I do know that your parents cared a lot about you, asking how your day was, how school was, and you were happy there. You smiled all throughout dinner, giggling and helping out with the dishes. It was disgusting—the entire scene. I could barely keep down my own dinner.

"But I digress." He laced his fingers together. "Your parents went to bed, you too, and I broke in. I went to your room first, and you were out cold. You were a deep sleeper as a child." A creepy smile crossed his lips, and she felt her stomach twist at what he might have done to her. "I found your dad's office, the Glock he kept in his bottom drawer and then I found their room. I shot your mom first, made it quick, but with your dad... Well, I shot his knees and I gagged him with a tie. It was hilarious how he kept trying to get to you. He was crawling around, bleeding everywhere, trying so desperately to get to his little girl. I let him try, but I blew his brains out when he made it to your bedroom door."

"You're lying." Tears brimmed in her eyes nonetheless, as she tried to convince herself of this. "I would have heard the gunshots. Deep sleeper or not."

"Not if I used a pillow to silence the gunshots—which I did."

"So, I'm supposed to believe you killed my parents, and nobody tried to find me? Bullshit."

"It's true. I took the car keys, you and I drove out of the city. I don't remember what city, but I do know I brought you to New York."

"Where were your parents?"

"Out of town. They were poor parents, unlike yours. They didn't care what I did, just as long as it didn't interfere with their lives."

"You took me to New York? Why?"

"Curiosity." He leaned toward her now. "I wanted to see if you would survive being tossed in to an unknown city, and what better city than New York? I tossed you in to an alley, and I watched you. You were so scared—bawling your eyes out, calling for your parents. You couldn't get anybody's attention in the part of town I ditched you in. You—you cried into a moldy box for a week." He laughed so hard, remembering her matted curls and dirty nightgown. "I tossed you some bread so you wouldn't die, a bottle of water, and you thanked me. The one who destroyed your precious life."

"Why help me?"

"You were a small, sobbing child. A goddamn moron who didn't think to steal from stores yet. I had to do something. You were barely moving on the fifth day."

"This is the most ludicrous story I have ever heard. You're making things up to what? What's your goal here? To make me upset? Miss parents I never had?"

"Then how did you end up on the street?" he inquired. "Do you think a foster parent got rough with you so you ran away?"

"It would be more believable than your story."

"I have no reason to lie to you. I practically created you, Williams—"

"You did not. My parents brought me into this world, but I built myself up from nothing. I am who I am today, because of the hardships I endured as a child, because of the kindness strangers showed me, because of my children and family. You played no part in that."

"Fine, ignore the origin story. It doesn't really matter now. Whoever your parents were doesn't matter; they're bones and scrapes of papers in a cold case box in some warehouse now. You can't move on from this point in your life without knowing what you left behind. You're a lost little lamb, Williams. Even I can see that."

"I'm leaving."

"Where are you going to go? To Gloria? See if what I told you is fact or fiction?"

"Yes. I've never asked her about my past, never used my contacts to find out more, but it's time. I have you behind bars, and now it's time to focus on myself. I can do that now. I have the freedom to do that. All you can do is stare at walls and think you have control over my life." She stood up. "You stopped being a threat to me the second you shot me. You were backed into a corner, and you turned into a wild animals like the rest of the criminals in here. You're no different than the Governor, and all of my fears that you were somehow my greatest challenge—my biggest adversary—were gratuitous. You're nothing. With your guns gone, all you are is a man who spins tales to try and frighten children. Well, I'm not a child anymore, and I don't have any questions for you."

His smirk faltered. "You do."

"No, because, Ed, I know the answer. I've lived on the same frequency as you for twelve years, and I know. You murdered my son as a warning. Rick was just...a coincidence. Maybe Phillip sent you after him. Rick was a relentless detective, so that's likely it. When you saw how that drove me to find you, it _did_ make you curious. You wanted to see how much further I would go to locate you, and you wanted to break me to see how and if I repaired myself. You were playing with me like a cat does a mouse, but like the tortoise and the hare, slow and steady wins the race. You have given me unimaginable agony and filled me with such rage, but...I forgive you." She blinked back tears. "I forgive you, because without all of that...I wouldn't have met Daryl and had a beautiful daughter. Lori and Shane wouldn't have gotten married and had a precious baby girl and raised a fine, strong boy together. Who knows what our lives would have been like had Rick and Sam survived."

His lips twitched, his eyes darkening as she spoken, and he sneered at her.

"I miss them every day, but everything happens for a reason. They're with God now, and I have to keep living for them and for myself." She smiled to herself, inhaling deeply to try and sooth the storm inside. "I have a lot to look forward too. It terrified me, at first—all this freedom. It doesn't anymore, because I know what I'm going to do."

"Now who's lying."

"Hmm." She strolled over to the door then turned to peer over her shoulder. "You asked me if it felt good? I never answered, but you're right—it _does_ feel good."

– – –

Carol knocked on the door and waited. She didn't have to wait long before Gloria opened the door and let her inside. She was in the middle of making tea, and Carol saw she had company. Andrea and Caesar were sitting at the table, and she noted that Caesar was drinking coffee. Andrea didn't have a cup in front of here, and she knew instantly why there visiting.

"Hey." Andrea smiled as a greeting and hugged Carol. "I heard from Rosita that you were taking some time off."

"Yeah, I have a plane to catch this evening." She whispered in her ear, "Congratulations."

"Thank you." She released her. "Why come here?"

"I didn't expect you two to be here. I wanted to have a word with Gloria. After you two, of course."

"Enough whispering." Gloria waved them over. "Have a seat. It's good to have you all here."

"We should visit more often." Caesar drank from his cup.

"Thanks." Carol accepted the cup of tea. "You remembered."

"Of course." Gloria smiled at her.

"Wait, you've been by?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, I was here shortly after I was let out of the hospital." She dunked the teabag. "I needed to talk to someone, and she was here." She set her hand over Gloria's and smiled then took a drink of her tea.

"Well, we can't stay too long. Keira's babysitter has a doctor's appointment in an hour, and we need to talk to Keira too." Caesar set his hand on Andrea's knee. "We thought you should know first."

Gloria exchanged a look with Carol, and Carol chuckled softly, knowing Gloria had known the second she opened the door what their news was about. "Oh? And what do you think to tell me first?"

"We're having another child," Andrea announced. "We waited to wait until we were sure before we told anybody, but I am pregnant. I'll be seven weeks on the first."

There was a round of hugging then, Carol played along with being surprised and congratulated both of them again, and they spent some time talking. It was so bizarre. They typically only spent time with Gloria on holidays and her birthday. They were all so busy with their lives, and to be together simply because was strange. It made Carol feel good. She knew that no matter what her past was, it didn't matter. She had a mother, a brother, a sister-in-law, two children of her own, an adopted daughter, and maybe one day a romantic partner. Maybe. It had been years since she dated, and she wasn't sure if she could even date. God, it had been so long. The longest relationship she'd ever had was probably with... Not even a human. A coffee brand. She's been using the same brand for over twenty years. Christ, that was sad.

Caesar and Andrea made plans with Gloria, and they would be bringing Keira along next time. Carol and Gloria saw them out, and Carol helped her clean up then they sat down to speak.

"I wondered when you'd come and ask me about this."

"I'm sorry I took so long."

"Don't be." The older woman smiled kindly. "I'm glad it took you this long. I like to think you're my third child."

"I'm only looking for...closure, I suppose. You are my mother." She took her hand. "You saved me and raised me. I am beyond grateful for you. I just...need to close that part of my life before I can begin my future."

She patted her hand. "I understand."

"When you...adopted me, what did you find out about my parents?"

"I wanted to talk to them. I wanted to know how on earth could they abandon their child. I had an entire argument prepared for them." She shook her head. "I never got say a word."

"Why not?"

"You were left at a church, given to the state, and eventually put into foster care. I tracked down the couple that had you, and they said you disappeared one night. They looked for you, but...they never found you. They assumed you ran away, and after a while they stopped looking. They lost hope of you ever being found or returning home."

"How old was I?"

"You were almost ten." She searched Carol's eyes and reached over to an embroidered box on the coffee table, pulling out a newspaper clipping. "These were your foster parents."

Carol looked over the article about her disappearance, seeing a picture of her with her foster parents. She looked happy, very like Sophia at that age, and she could tell they were good parents. "Mmm." She brushed her fingertips over their faces.

"You don't remember them?"

"No." She frowned. "I don't."

She patted her knee as a way of consoling her. "Maybe it's better that way."

Carol lowered the clipping. "You kept this all these years?"

"I knew you would coming asking, and I wanted to answer you as best I could."

Carol smiled and hugged her. "Thank you."

"Go find the answers you're looking for," she whispered into Carol's ears. "And bring my granddaughter around sometime."

She laughed. "I will. I promise." She held her tighter, closing her eyes. She had two more stops to make before she had to catch her flight. She knew she was being a terrible mother. Two months both in and out of hospital recovering from being shot twice, and now she was taking off to try and fill the gaping wholes in her past. She would apology to Mika and Sophia, mostly Mika. Sophia had her father and family, but Mika didn't. Ryan couldn't come and spend time with her right now. Carol would have to make it up to them. Maybe gifts. She'd start with an apology then gifts. Lots of gifts if she was going to be gone as long as she thought she would be. She just needed answers.

––

Daryl was trying to get some sleep, but he honestly couldn't. It wasn't that late, however when he slept earlier, he woke up earlier. He wanted to be up went Axel and Abe came by. They were bringing him some decent food. They had to smuggle it by the nurses, so he definitely wanted to be awake. Last time the fuckholes ate it themselves, and he woke up with the smell of it lingering all day. It was cruel, and if he could, he'd smack the shit out of them.

He rested his good hand behind his head and adjusted himself as best he could then he saw a figure drifting closer to his room. He discovered it was Carol coming toward him. He straightened instantly, running a hand through his messy hair and clearing his throat. He greeted her with a small smile.

"I thought you were gone already."

"Not yet. My flight leaves in an hour though." She looked for a chair and scooted it to his bed, setting her bag beside her.

Daryl realized this was first time he'd seen her in jeans, although she still wore a blouse. She looked good. Healthy. He felt his cheeks burn, and he felt ridiculous. He blamed Rosita. Her and her damn prodding. Yeah, he did have feeling for her in the past, but that was just because he knew he wouldn't meet anyone like her again. Wait. He didn't—ugh. Screw it. He'd rather not think about it.

"I wanted to talk to you." She met his eyes. "I'll be gone for a few weeks, and I've gotten the all clear from my doctors and Michonne, but not you. I know Rosita told you I'm leaving for a bit, as you already brought it up, and I wanted to know if you'd look after Sophia for me. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah. She's been my daughter for ten years, Carol."

She nodded. "I just wanted to make sure. I don't want you to give her the details, but let her know I'll be back as soon as possible."

"What are the details?"

"I...don't remember my childhood. At all. I never have been able to recall being younger than ten years old."

"That's weird."

"Yes, it is. I'm going to try and find...what I'm missing."

"Well, I wish you luck."

"Thanks." She reached out and grasped his hand. "I have another favor to ask."

"What's that?"

"Don't take the meals Axel and Noah bring you. They're not healthy, and you need to be healthy. Ask Rosita to bring you meals that are good for you. They'll give you strength, assist you so you can heal faster." She met his eyes. "I don't want anything to happen to you, and the sooner you're out of here, the sooner you can put all of this behind you."

He made a face. "Have you had the food here?"

She smirked. "Why I mentioned Rosita."

He groaned. "I'll think about it."

She removed her hand. "I know you must be going stir crazy in here, so please do."

"Do you have to leave now?" he murmured, not looking at her.

"I'm already packed, and I talked to the girls, so...not just yet."

"What did the girls say?"

"I am to bring back lots and lots of gifts. And candy."

"That sounds about right."

"It's your doing. You spoiled Sophia."

"I already told you why."

"I'm just happy she isn't a spoiled brat about it. She values things. She learned that from you, you know." She peered at him. "You had money and power yet you showed her, perhaps inadvertently, that the only thing that matters is family. Loyalty and love are far more important to her than riches and power. Thank you for that."

"Just doin' my job."

She nodded again. "I brought you something."

"You did?"

She reached into the bag and pulled out a toy crossbow with suction cup bolts. "Here, to keep yourself entertained."

He chuckled. "Best thing I've been given since I was admitted."

"Believe me when I say I know how boring it can be sitting around, waiting to heal." She rested her chin in her palm. "Don't abuse it though."

"Me? Never."

She watched him hold it. "Can you...load it? I didn't— I mean... God, I'm sorry. I didn't think about your—"

"No, no, it's good. I can." He showed her. "It ain't as easy as it was before, but I'll manage. Thanks." He set it on the table beside him. "I noticed you stop touching it."

"What?"

"Your necklace. You used to touch it all the time. You don't anymore."

She grasped her locket. "It was a habit. I guess I thought it gave it me strength, relieved me of my loneliness and...gave me hope."

"Some locket."

She leaned toward him and opened it. "Rosita gave this to me a week or so after Sophia was born. This is Sam, and this is Sophia."

He leaned forward and looked over the two baby pictures. "They look a lot alike."

"Yeah."

"I think I took this picture."

"Did you?"

"Yeah, I did. It was the day Rosita brought her home."

"You have a good eye."

He swallowed. "I'm sorry you lost Sam. He would've been a fine man. I'm sure of it."

She closed the locket and held onto it. "Thank you, but I know he's in a better place now. I'll see him again, I hope."

"Carol?"

"Yes?"

"I know it's been ten years since, but I want to talk about what happened between us. I need to before we can move on. We'll be in each others life through Sophia, and I just want...to talk about it now that we have a chance to."

"When I return, we can talk about it." She checked her watch. "I should go."

"Now?"

"I'll be back before you know it." She gave him a gentle smile, collected her bag and exited the room without looking back.

He leaned back on the pillows behind him and picked up the crossbow toy, smiling to himself. He was going to hit Axel in the face with it, and that wasn't abuse. That was payback. He'd have to make her see it since way when she got back. After they talked. Hmm. That was one conversation he was actually looking forward to.


	26. Three Little Girls

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Carol spoke with the the priest at the church who was there the night she was placed on the steps. She didn't learn much, and she thanked him for his time. She had Rosita looking into births on the same date, and she made sure Rosita looked for younger mothers. It may be why Carol was given up. Maybe not. It still gave her a chance of possibly finding someone related to or connected to her. She had another lead, but she was uncertain. She didn't want to drudge up the past and reopen old wounds. She didn't have much else, as neither the church nor Rosita lead anywhere.

She found herself outside the house of Deanna and Reg Monroe. They lived in the same house as before, and the house oddly familiar to her. She couldn't recall ever being here, but her body was relaxed, her guard down. She must have been happy here. She hoped they didn't mind the intrusion. She knocked on the door and drew in a breath, trying to prepare herself when the door opened, and her eyes fell on a small, light haired woman. Carol had no memory of her.

"Can I help you?" She looked over the woman on her porch.

"Are you Deanna Monroe?"

"Yes, I am. Who are you?"

"My name is Carol Williams. I believe you adopted me when I was infant, and I went missing around age nine." Carol watched the narrow-eyed expression shift to one of gasping with wide eyes.

"Carol." She stumbled back. "Oh, my God. Reg!"

Carol lifted her to a man who entered the room, and as he draw near, she caught a whiff of his aftershave, and she saw a flash in her mind. Laughter, a swing in the back yard, the smell of food cooking on a grill. She stepped back and shook her briefly at that, and she glanced at the couple before her.

"Come inside." Deanne moved aside, and Carol entered the house. "Please, have a seat."

"Reg." Deanne spoke inaudibly with him for a moment before they joined Carol. "How... When did you...?" She chuckled once at her inability to finish her question.

"I recently discovered my kidnapping, and I wanted fill in the holes."

"Holes?" The older man inquired, adjusting his glasses.

"I don't remember anything from before the age of ten, and I'm not sure why. I've never looked into my past, but...I feel that I have to." She intertwined her fingers. "I've come to a point in my life where I can't move forward, and I'm hoping that learning about my past will help me...find what I'm looking for."

Deanna nodded. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything you can tell me would be great."

"Well, we took you in when you were a baby." Reg thought back. "We had you until you were nine, a week and a half shy of your tenth birthday."

"What happened when I was nine?" Carol searched her eyes. "What do you remember from that night?"

"I remember that night clear as day." She exhaled deeply, and Carol could feel the weight in her sigh. "It was directly after our camping trip. It was the first time we'd gone camping."

––

" _Can we go home yet?" Deanna teased her outdoorsy husband._

" _Not for another three days," he teased back, following the path to their campsite. "You'll like it."_

" _That's what he said about asparagus," Carol mumbled._

" _That what he said about his dusty music collection too," Spencer added. "It's been twelve years of "you'll like it", and I still don't."_

 _Deanna wrapped an arm around her son and daughter. "We'll adjust. You know how he is. Just humor him."_

 _Aiden sped by to their father and showed him so lizard he'd caught. "Isn't this cool? I love the woods!"_

" _I feel like Dad paid him to say that," Spencer whispered to them._

" _He had to have," Carol agreed. "How did he even catch that?" She jogged ahead to check it out. "Lemme see."_

 _They trudged through the woods, enjoying the spring breeze and the idle conversation, and Deanna had to get onto Aiden about tossing the lizard around. It was another living being, not a pillow or toy he roughly handle and tossed about. He was such a stereotypical boy sometimes. Eight years with him, and most of them have been hell. Biology played a cruel joke when they had Aiden, because he was possibly a collection of their worst traits. He was a sweet boy when he wanted something from them, but most of the time he was nothing but a prankster. She hoped he outgrew it, but as the years when out, her hope dwindled. She loved the hell out of that little prankster nevertheless._

 _Carol was a sweetheart. She was the middle child at nine years old. She was savvy and good-hearted, always willing to give any spare change to help those less fortunate and giving up her time to help them clean the house. She was a blessing, truly, and Deanna and Reg adored her. Carol was adopted as a baby. They heard about her being left at their church, and they didn't wait a day to bring her into their home. She didn't know she was adopted, and Deanna was blessed that Spencer never let it show. (He had found out when he was eight by accident. They explained it to him, and he understood.) In fact he made a point to let people know that she was **his** baby sister, and he loved her. He looked out for her and helped her with her homework. They were thick as thieves, having that one year before Aiden came along to bond. It was enough time for Carol to wrap Spencer around her little finger._

 _Spencer was the oldest at twelve. He and Aiden bickered constantly and wrestled at the drop of a hat. Spencer wouldn't wrestle with Carol, but he got involved to make sure Aiden and Carol didn't hurt the other if they started to wrestle. He was the oldest who played the role of the middle child far more often than Carol. He tried to keep the peace between his younger siblings, but sometimes he failed or let them fight it out. He stepped in when one of them got hurt. He was a good boy, respectful and strong. Adaptable. He didn't let anyone tell him who he was or who he should be, and he always managed to get Carol and Aiden to work together for big events. He was a hard worker like his father. Deanna suspected he would go into construction as well. He admired his father's work and watched him sometimes from his office at home._

" _Do we have to fish for food?" Spencer caught up to his dad. "I know we have s'mores stuff, but is that all?"_

" _I brought some emergency supplies, but yeah, we're gonna try to fish for our dinner."_

" _Told you so." He smirked at Carol and Aiden. "I bet I can catch more fish than both of you."_

" _In your dreams," Carol scoffed._

" _We're almost to the campsite. It's through those branches."_

" _Race you!" Aiden bolted toward the branches Reg pointed out. "Last one there's a rotten egg!"_

 _Carol and Spencer darted after him, Deanna wrapped an arm around Reg and strolled behind them, smiling at their unruly children, and they weren't sure who the winner was until they pushed back the branches and saw Aiden glaring daggers at Carol, and Spencer laughing at him. Reg broke it up by taking Carol and Spencer to help set up the tents, and Deanna and Aiden gathered sticks for a fire._

" _Have you ever come here before?" Carol set her bag inside her tent._

" _When I was your age." He set a hand on her head. "Me and my dad came out here a lot in the summer."_

" _Did you have fun?"_

" _Yeah, just like you'll have fun." He shook her head side to side. "How do you feel about sleeping alone? You can stay with me and Mom."_

" _I'll be fine."_

" _She has Mr. Spunky," Spencer teased. "I saw her pack him."_

" _Shut up!" She blushed and pushed him._

" _Ow, that hurt so much." He laughed at her and hopped up. "I'm gonna find Mom and Aiden to help find sticks."_

" _Be careful," he called after him._

" _Watch out for snakes," Carol said._

" _I heard that!" he remarked._

" _I wasn't whispering."_

 _Reg shook his head. "We have one more trip to make to the car. Wanna help me?"_

" _Sure. Can we go fishing after?"_

" _Yeah, let's hurry."_

" _Okay._

– – –

" _What do you call that?" Carol whirled her finger in a circle at a cluster of stars, lying on a blanket with her mom while the Reg and Spencer prepared the fish. Carol and Aiden were to young to lend a hand._

 _Deanna inhaled and looked over where her daughter pointed. "I think that's—"_

" _Ow!" Aiden exclaimed._

" _What happened?" Deanna scrambled to her feet and over to the boys._

" _He cut himself." Spencer held Aiden's hand while Dad got the first aid kit. "He wasn't supposed to touch the knives, but he wanted to try, so I let him. It's my fault."_

" _Let me see." Deanna grasped his hand and examined the wound. "That's not too deep."_

" _It hurts." He winced when Mom turned his hand this way and that to see it the light the fire cast._

" _Here." Reg handed Deanna the first aid kit. "I'll finish this up with Spencer."_

" _Could you open a gauze for me, sweetie?" Deanna requested of Carol. "And hold this, please."_

 _She took the bottle of peroxide and opened a gauze. "Here, Mom." She glanced at the now bubbling wound. "Does it still hurt?"_

" _Duh." Aiden hissed as the peroxide burned. "Crap, that hurts."_

" _It's punishment for doing something we told you not to. Even though Spencer offered you the knife, you knew better. We told you you're too young," she scolded. "When you're older, you can clean the fish too, but only then."_

" _Okay, okay. I'm sorry." His brows furrowed as she wiped away the reddish bubbles. "Ugh."_

 _Deanna finished cleaning his hand and bandaged it, Reg prepared the rest of the fish and put it on to cook, and they all bunched up on the blanket to look at the stars. Deanna didn't know all the names to them, but she knew a few, and they had fun laughing and making up names for them. Aiden soon forgot the pain in his hand, and they were back to messing with each other. Deanna had to get on them, but mostly they were just teasing._

 _When Reg called for dinner, they shot up and bolted over to the fire, and it was just like at home. Spencer took the second biggest piece of meat, Aiden the third, and Carol took the smallest. She didn't eat a whole lot, not that boys ever gave her a chance too. They always made sure she had enough, and she was the proper weight for her age. The boys were simply too aggressive when it came to meat, so Carol wound up with a lot of veggies. She was good about eating them, and Deanna often slipped her some sweets. At least one of them was a healthy eater._

" _If you are scared, you can always sleep in our tent," Aiden mused at Carol._

" _I'd go to Mom and Dad's tent first," Carol retorted. "Breathable air."_

" _Gross." Deanna chuckled, pulling in a flaming marshmallow._

" _It's true. It's like some gross farting contest: who can pass the smelliest gas." She bit in to her s'more._

" _Aiden's made of only gas, so he wins," Spencer replied. "But if he starts tonight, I'm kicking him out of the tent."_

" _I'd like to see you try," Aiden challenged. "You can go sleep with Carol and her stupid cat."_

" _Spunky is not a cat!" Carol corrected._

" _Sorry, rat."_

 _She glared. "You're the rat."_

" _Can we have one conversation where there isn't a fight?" Reg exasperatedly questioned._

" _Aiden makes that impossible." Carol crossed her legs and finished her s'more. "He's a jerk."_

" _You're a jerk," Aiden murmured._

" _How about you guys get to bed?" Deanna suggested. "It's late, and we have a busy day ahead of us. Carol, if you're scared or get lonely, you know here to find us. Same goes to you boys."_

" _I'll be fine." Spencer ducked into his tent._

 _Carol hugged her Mom and Dad goodnight then crawled inside her tent. She removed her shoes and wiggled into her sleeping bag, snuggling up with Spunky, calling goodnight to them before closing her eyes._

 _Aiden stretched out then followed his brother into their tent, Deanna and Reg stayed up until the fire was dying down then turned in. The first night was the most difficult. Carol had her own room at home, but this was in the middle of the woods. She was a tough cookie though. And Aiden tried to be strong like his brother, but he wasn't always successful. He wanted to be tough and unafraid, so he might sleep in his own tent tonight. He had Spencer, so that helped. Nonetheless Deanna worried until she fell asleep._

– – –

 _They went hiking the next morning, Reg found a leaf that tasted like mint gum and gave the kids a few, and they were stunned. Deanna took a picture of it. It was too cute to not take a picture. She hoped that the hike would wear them down, because they were rowdy the entire day yesterday, and she wanted a little peace and quite before lights out. These kids, man, it was like they snorted sugar and could go on for days. God, she couldn't imagine having that much energy. She could clean the house, her office and both cars with a half of their energy. Goodness._

" _Can we go swimming?" Aiden complained. "It's hot."_

" _Suck it up." Spencer adjusted his baseball cap. "The more you complain, the hotter it gets."_

" _Ugggggghhhh," Aiden groaned. "Are we almost there?"_

" _Yes, we're almost there." Reg rolled his eyes at Carol, and she giggled. "Pick up your pace, or we'll never get there."_

 _They walked another mile. Reg walked on ahead of the group, Spencer gave his backpack to Carol in exchange for a piggyback ride, and Aiden and Deanna took up the rear. As they neared their location, Spencer told Carol to hold up and ran ahead, Deanna exchanged a look with Aiden then they jogged after them, and they all stopped where Reg was waiting._

" _Whoa." Spencer looked over the waterfall and smiled at Carol who had gasped. "Do you need your water wings? Or do you just wanna jump on in?"_

" _Wait, wait." Reg held his hands out. "Let's get the food off her back before there's any jumping."_

 _Spencer set Carol on the ground and removed his cap, Reg unpacked their lunch, and Aiden cannon-balled into the water without taking off his shoes or anything. Spencer had taken off his shoes and socks and shirt before diving him after his brother, and Carol sat down to untie her shoes._

 _Deanna picked up the piles of discarded clothes. "Be careful, all of you!"_

" _We will be." Spencer dunked Aiden under water briefly._

" _I'll keep an eye on them, maybe stick my feet in," Deanna told her husband._

" _I'll prepare lunch by myself then. It's fine." He chugged a bottle of water._

" _They'll clean up."_

 _Carol slipped in to the cold water and shuddered. Once she adjusted, she swam out near her brothers but not close enough to get caught up in their dunk and splash games. She was a decent swimmer but very new. She didn't want to risk it and spoil the day._

 _Deanna sat out a rock and stuck her feet in, watching the kids, especially Carol. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the breeze. She was pleased they'd made time to come out here. It was perfect with the kids on spring break. They had the rest of the week to play video games and pick at each other, but they had these couple of days to get out in nature with family. And pick at each other. That seemed to be more amusing to them than any video game. They did constantly, and maybe it was because she was an only child, but she didn't get it. They annoyed each other to their limits and then some, what was the fun in that? She would ask, but it would kill it for them. At least when they were fighting, she knew there were still alive._

 _She opened her eyes. Carol's birthday was coming up. She would be ten years old. They had her birthday party planned, all of the invitations sent, and Reg found the perfect gift for her. Carol didn't care much for dolls, but she adored mysteries. Reg found this cute little detective's kit, and it was so precious. She knew Carol would love it. She hoped Aiden didn't try to ruin it for her. She would have to lecture him. Him had more important things to do than pester Carol. All he did some days was try to get under her skin. Sometimes he managed to, and other times he couldn't make her budge. They were the exact opposite of each other. She was sure that one day they'd get along. Or they'd kill each other._

 _Carol was the first to get out of the water, and she aided her father in setting up lunch. She was sobbing wet, but she still lent him a hand. The food was astonishing still cool, and once everything was ready, Spencer and Aiden and Deanna joined them._

" _Don't drip on everyone's food," Reg told the boys._

" _Sorry, Dad." Spencer sat back and accepted the plate Carol handed him. "Thanks."_

" _Here." Carol handed the other to Aiden who nodded a thanks. "Did only we come here to do today was swim?"_

" _Partly." Reg nodded. "There's something else I want to show you when we're done eating."_

" _What is it?" Aiden swatted bugs away from his plate and his skin._

" _You'll just have to wait and see."_

 _They spent an hour having lunch, Reg told them a few stories about when he and his dad came out there, and a warm breeze dried their clothes. They would have to head back soon to be at the campsite before dark, but Dad wanted to show them something. Deanna didn't know what it was either. This was the first time they'd been here after all. So she was just as curious as the kids when he said it was time to go._

 _He led them near the water but to the left of the waterfall, and Deanna was grateful she put her shoes back on. Carol spotted where Dad was leading them, and once Spencer and Aiden saw it, they ran over to it without even making sure it was the right place. Reg shook his head, Carol gripped his hand and walked beside as they entered the cave, and Deanna took his arm._

 _The boys were up ahead, Carol let go of her dad's hand when she saw her brothers staring at something on the wall and rushed over to see what it was, and Reg let them just gaze at the old drawings on the wall. He and his dad had found them, and they weren't sure what they were. He couldn't even guess what the shapes were either. They were worn from time and likely from people touching them, so it was anyone's guess. They could be right or wrong, and they'd never know._

 _Carol ran her eyes over the wall and the differently hued doodles, and she turned her gaze the entrance of the cave, feeling that someone was there, but she didn't see anyone. She frowned and narrowed her eyes, but she didn't even spot someone leaving. There was no one there. She could have sworn she felt someone watching them._

" _Carol." Spencer hit her arm lightly to get her attention, and she jumped. "Dad wants to take a picture."_

" _Oh."_

" _You okay?"_

" _Yeah." She smiled and nodded._

– – –

 _They packed up in the evening on the final day, Spencer was messing with the camera, Aiden was tossing the remaining sticks all over the place, and Carol was nestled under a tree with Spunky. Deanna and Reg were at the car, wondering how in the hell it appeared they were leaving with more than they arrived with. They had only brought the one car, and the kids couldn't be shoved together the entire drive back. That was hell neither one of them wanted to suffer through, so they removed everything and packed it tightly back in. Hastily slamming the truck, they panted and prayed the kids didn't have to add anything more._

 _Returning to the campsite, they motioned to the kids it was time to go, and they once again strolled up the path back to the car. Spencer was ahead of them, walking backwards and snapping pictures, and Aiden was trying to take the camera the entire time. When they started to fight, Reg confiscated the camera and escorted them to the car. Carol laughed, and Deanna held a finger to her lips, smiling back at her, and Carol buried her giggles behind Spunky._

" _All right, since Aiden got the window on the way here, Carol gets it on the way back." Deanna opened the backdoor. "No arguments."_

" _But do I have to sit in the middle?" Aiden whined._

" _Yes, you do."_

 _They climbed in the car, Reg ensured they buckled their seat belts before pulling out, and Deanna peered back as they left the campsite, seeing Carol was fast asleep. She also saw Aiden trying to steal Spunky, so she swatted his knee; and he humphed and folded his arms, slouching in his seat. Spencer was distracted by the passing view, and it was quiet in the car. It was a peaceful trip back. She was grateful, the way to was a nightmare. If one of them wasn't hungry, one of the others had to use the bathroom, and it was never at the same time. They had so many pit spots it was a miracle they made it here at all._

 _Parking in their driveway, Reg nodded to Deanna and carried Carol gently inside. She was out cold. The boys must have worn her out today. He set her down on her bed, removing her tennis shoes and covering her with her blanket. He brushed hair from her forehead and placed a kiss there. He knew she didn't need the nightlight, but as always just in case she did, he turned it on for her and closed the door completely. He didn't want the boys to wake her up._

" _The boys aren't ready for bed yet." Deanna was in the hallway, speaking softly. "After all we did, they're still wide awake."_

" _I don't know how." He leaned against the wall. "Carol's been asleep since we brought her in. She didn't even flinch when I tucked her in."_

" _Thank God for that."_

" _I'm going to try to wear the boys down."_

" _Good luck. I'm going to the study to finish up that paper work I'd forgotten about until this morning."_

" _We'll be unpacking the car. If you hear any loud thuds, one of the boys pushed the other. Or they dropped some gear."_

 _She nodded. "I'll close my door so I won't be distracted. Don't forget to set the alarm when you're done with that."_

" _I won't." He kissed her temple before heading down the hall to find the boys. They were already wrestling in the living room, and he shook his head. "Aiden, Spencer, cut it out! Now!"_

" _He started it." Aiden shoved his brother away._

" _And now it's over. It's a draw. Help me unpack the car."_

" _What do we get if we help?" Spencer asked._

" _Can we put spiders in Carol's bed again? That was so funny." Aiden chuckled._

" _No, and you're lucky you're not grounded for that prank. She's your sister, stop torturing her! C'mon, help me unload the car as payment for not grounding you."_

" _Fine." Aiden dragged himself out to the car._

" _And I'll give you ten bucks to help me," he said to Spencer._

" _Sounds fair."_

 _Once everything returned to its original place, the boys were exhausted, and Reg put them to bed. He made sure they brushed their teeth and kissed them goodnight. Aiden always wiped it off, and Spencer complained he was too old for that, but he did it anyway, if only for a laugh. He poked his head in Deanna's office and informed her that the job was done and the kids were all in bed._

" _I'm almost done here." She set her glasses down. "I'll be along in a minute."_

" _Okay."_

 _She rubbed the base of her neck and decided that was enough for tonight. She had taken time off, and it wasn't urgent. She would wrap this up tomorrow morning. She exited her office and checked one more time on the kids, kissing each of them goodnight, and she ensured their windows were locked. She shuffled to her bedroom, yawning and ready to turn in for the night._

– – –

" _I'm gonna go over to Pete's," Spencer announced, not sure where his mom was._

" _Okay," she called back._

" _Can I come?" Carol peered up at him with big eyes._

" _Sorry, kid, but no." He frowned at her sad face. "I think Paula's coming by, so you can hang out with her daughters. Pete has this new game, and you're not old enough to see it." He poked her forehead. "Besides you gotta keep Aiden in line."_

 _She smiled. "Okay." She blew out a sigh and wandered the house. She didn't want to play in her room or outside on the swing set. There wasn't anything on TV that she hadn't already seen. Aiden was playing something on his portable game system, and he wouldn't play her with anyway. He didn't play with "little girls". She didn't want to interrupt her mom, and Dad was at work._

 _She groaned and plopped down on her bed, having no where else to go or anything else to do. She could watch a movie, but she wasn't sure which one to watch. They had a lot of movies, and most of them she wasn't allowed to watch. Dad said they were for older kids, but Spencer wouldn't watch most of them either. It made no sense. How much older did they have to be?_

" _Carol." Deanna knocked on the frame. "Paula's here. Her girls want to play with you. Do you wanna come out and play with them?"_

" _Yeah." She hopped off the bed._

" _Stay in the yard. We'll bring you something to drink in a bit, okay?"_

" _Okay!"_

––

 _Paula and her girls stayed until five then had to leave. Carol liked the younger girls, but the older one was bossy. She opened Carol's window and made them reenact Rapunzel. When the AC was on, Mom didn't like for the windows to be open, and Carol told her that, but she didn't care. She told Carol to stop being such a baby and shut up, and Carol didn't want to get her in trouble, so she did. She didn't tell her mom and closed the window herself. That girl was a jerk, and she'd rather they hadn't come at all._

" _Spencer's on his way home now." Deanna leaned on the counter. "What shall we have for dinner?"_

" _Not fish," Aiden remarked._

" _Chicken nuggets?" Carol suggested._

" _I don't know if we have any." She pushed off the counter and checked the fridge. "Hmm, well, there isn't enough here for everyone."_

" _Pizza." Aiden shifted on the stool he sat on. "We should have pizza."_

" _We're not having pizza."_

" _Why not? It's quick and delicious."_

" _Because I said no."_

 _He groaned. "Then why ask us what we want to begin with?"_

" _Dad will be home soon, so we can have some popcorn to tide us over, and we'll have him make grilled chicken," Deanna offered. "I can make macaroni and cheese, and we can have some type of vegetable."_

" _Carrots," Aiden replied. "Boiled carrots."_

" _They're too sweet when they're boiled," Carol murmured._

" _That's the point."_

 _Denise spotted carrots in the fridge. "Okay, that's what we're having for dinner. Aiden, go pick out a movie. Carol and I will make the popcorn."_

 _He jumped off the stool. "I already know what movie."_

" _Not if I hid it," Deanna muttered, and Carol giggled. "I can't watch that movie again. I see it in my dreams."_

" _Me too."_

––

 _Deanna and Spencer were playing a card game, Reg grilled up their dinner, and Carol and Aiden were jumping around the background trying to catch lightening bugs with their bare hands. Deanna had a jar on the table if they caught any alive, and Spencer didn't know why they didn't just try to scoop them up with the jar. He let them be. It was their hunt and wasted energy._

 _Deanna went inside to prepare the side dishes, Spencer asked his dad if he could grill, and Carol and Aiden were still trying to catch fireflies. He wasn't sure how many they'd killed, but it could be zero. They were pretty terrible at it. He was tempted to catch a few in the jar and leave on the table so they won't feel discouraged when they came up empty-handed._

 _Carol suddenly dashed over to the jar and quickly closed the lid, Aiden and Spencer joined her, and she panted while peering in on the lightening bug she'd caught. Aiden rolled his eyes and challenged that he would catch ten of them, and Spencer laughed and called him a poor loser._

" _Mom, I caught one!" Carol showed her the jar. "Before Aiden even caught one!"_

" _Wow, I'm impressed. I can't even catch a slow moving fly." She smiled and handed the jar back._

 _Reg came to check out the lightening bug situation and gave Carol a thumb's up. "Dinner's almost ready, go wash up. You can try to catch more after we eat."_

 _Carol was the first one to finish washing up, so she set the table with her dad, and Spencer carried in some of the food, and Aiden didn't help, because he didn't want to. Carol wasn't fond of mushy carrots, so Deanna didn't get on her to eat more, and Aiden ate practically all of them, which was surprising. He avoided vegetables like they were the plague. They had a good helping of the chicken and macaroni._

" _What do you want for your birthday?" Spencer ate a forkful of chicken._

" _My birthday?" Carol pressed her lips together in thought. "Umm, I don't know."_

" _You want, like, a million things any other time."_

" _Well, if I did want something, I couldn't think of it it when you asked me!"_

" _Sorry, didn't mean to pressure you."_

" _I guess I'd like a game I can actually play," she reported. "You have hundreds of games, and I can't play any of them."_

 _He nodded. "I can do that."_

" _You mean, **I** can do that," Reg corrected, and they laughed. _

" _I'm gonna get you a fish," Aiden stated. "A gold fish."_

" _We said we'd consider getting her a fish." Deanna drank from her cup. "We haven't decided yet."_

" _Fine, I might be getting you a fish."_

" _What if Mom and Dad say no?" Carol studied his face._

" _I dunno." He shrugged. "You're weird, so I'll get something weird."_

" _How am I weird?"_

" _You just are."_

" _Don't worry about being weird," Spencer uttered so only she could hear, "it pays off."_

" _So, which two of you have dish duty tonight?" Reg inquired. "I forgot."_

" _Carol and you washed the cups before we left," Deanna recalled. "So it's me and Spence."_

" _Isn't this why we have a dishwasher?" Spencer huffed._

" _This plates can't be put in the dishwasher. The design will wash off."_

" _Why do we have these plates then?"_

" _They were a gift, and if you keep griping, you won't get dessert."_

 _He grumbled under his breath._

––

" _You brushed your teeth?" Reg held the blankets as Carol climbed into bed._

" _Yes."_

" _Okay." He tucked her in. "We'll have to let that lightening bug go in the morning. You know that, right?"_

" _I know." She rolled on her side to look at it. "Will it be all right through the night?"_

" _Yeah, we poked holes in the lid, so it can breathe. It'll be fine till morning." He kissed her goodnight. "Sleep tight. I love you."_

" _I love you too." She smiled. "You don't have to turn my nightlight on, Dad."_

" _I know. I just do it out of habit. You're growing up on me. You need to stop."_

" _I can't be a little girl forever, Dad."_

" _I'll pay you to try."_

 _She laughed. "Sorry."_

" _It was worth a try." He stood up. "Water's to the left of you, honey."_

 _She nodded. "Night."_

" _Night." He pulled the door partially shut and found his wife. "They're asleep."_

 _She rubbed lotion onto her palms. "Carol's going on ten, Spencer will be thirteen in July, and Aiden will be nine in November."_

" _I tried bribery, but they all refused."_

 _She smiled. "I'm stunned. Spencer didn't go for the money?"_

" _No, he didn't." He sat on the bed. "He said he wants to makes his own money someday, not just have fifty bucks now."_

" _That sounds like him." She inhaled. "Should we get Carol a fish?"_

" _Does she even like fish?"_

" _She likes the aquarium." He chuckled. "And we could use a pet. Start with a fish, maybe get a bird or something."_

" _A bird? I was thinking more along the lines of a puppy or kitten. A hamster, even."_

" _Aiden with a hamster?"_

" _Good point. Maybe a rabbit. We could keep it in living room."_

" _Maybe."_

" _I'll stop by the pet store tomorrow on my way home from work, talk to someone about it, see how much responsibility they are." He lied down. "If we give it to Carol, she'll take care of it."_

" _She does well with responsibility," Deanna agreed._

 _He removed his glasses and set them on the table beside him. "Let's hope it rubs off on her brothers."_

" _Keep hoping," she teased._

" _I know." He ran a hand down his face and exhaled. "Hmm. I'm beat." He flicked the light off and lied down._

" _Hey, Reg?" Deanna whispered._

" _Yeah?"_

" _I know we agreed, but should we tell her?"_

" _Why?"_

" _I just don't want it to come out, and she'll feel like we betrayed her or lied to her."_

" _She's our daughter, no matter what her DNA says. That's all there is to say. We agreed." He rubbed her back. "She won't find out, and if she does, she'll know it wasn't kept a secret on purpose. It's not important who she came out of. We're her family, all of us, and we'll always going to be her family."_

" _You're right. You're right." She rested her head on his chest. "I'm sorry."_

" _Don't be sorry. I get it. I've thought about it too, but in the end, she's our daughter."_

 _She nodded. Her worries would die down soon enough. Carol was their child, and Deanna knew that wouldn't ever be changed._

– – –

 _It was ten o'clock in the morning, the kids were eating their waffles in the kitchen, Reg was getting ready for work, and Deanna was trying to find a babysitter. Spencer could watch his brother and sister, but Pete invited him over so much. Deanna didn't want him to feel trapped with them, and Aiden's friends sometimes called him over. Carol's friend was out of town for the rest of spring break, but she sent postcards. One came in the mail today. She needed to give it to her._

 _Deanna lowered her phone and frowned at the sight of only the boys eating breakfast, swallowing coffee. "I thought I told you to wake your sister."_

 _Spencer and Aiden looked up from their plates, she waited for an explanation, but they didn't give one. She set her cup and phone down and heard "I knocked" as she walked away. She opened the door to her daughter's bedroom and discovered it was empty. She frowned and tried the backyard. She might be letting the firefly go. Or she could be waiting for one of them to come disengage the alarm so she could set it free. She hated the nose it made, and she didn't know the code. That had to be it._

 _However the hall to the backyard was vacant. That made no sense. If Carol wasn't in her room or the hallway to the backyard, where she was? The bathroom door was wide open, and it was empty. There wasn't anywhere else she could be. Reg kept the basement locked, and Carol never went into the master bedroom unless she wanted something, but she had to have heard her mom call for breakfast. She had to have. Deanna tried to calm the panicky breaths rising in her lungs, however it was fruitless. No one had left the house yet. Reg was in the shower, the boys were eating breakfast, and she was in the living room the entire morning. She was on the phone, but she would have seen if someone walked out._

 _She bolted to Carol's room and searched it, but all of her belongings were still here, Spunky was still here. Her tennis shoes were even still here. Carol had no reason to run away in the first place. She loved her brothers, her parents and simply being home. She would occasionally gripe if they were away from home for too long, and she would do the same if they were home for too long as well, though. And besides, even if she did run away, the alarm was set. They would have heard it go off when she tried to sneak out of here. She was certain Reg engaged it last night. There was no other way out of the house._

 _Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she noticed the window. It was cracked. Carol knew better than to leave the windows open when they air conditioning was on. They got on to the boys about that, and she was there when they did. She knew better. Deanna moistened her lips and approached it, heedful to not touch anything. She saw smudges on the glass, but they were too large to be Carol's. Or Spencer's, yet they were too small to belong to Reg. From how they were, someone was pulling the window shut. Oh, God. Someone was in their house last night. Someone took their daughter!_

 _She covered her hand with her mouth and grabbed the phone from the table in the hall, calling the police._

" _Mom?" Spencer was at the end of the hall with a basketball, staring at his mother with wide eyes. "What is it?"_

 _Aiden tried to grab the ball from his brother, but at the sight of their mom, he stopped. "Mom?"_

 _Reg entered the hall at the exact moment Deanna told the operator, "My daughter's been kidnapped."_

" _What?" the boys exclaimed._

 _Reg stared at his wife as she continued to speak with the operator, and his heart was racing. He stepped into his daughter's rooms, but he didn't see a crime scene or anything out of place. The window was ajar, but that was hardly suspect. He knew his wife wasn't one for hysterics, so this was real. Someone had actually come in their home and kidnapped their daughter. Carol was gone._

– – –

"I searched the entire house," Reg continued. "You were just gone."

Carol gazed at the Reg and Deanna, trying to recall even the smallest detail of their story, but it was foreign to her. She could tell they had hold her more of the story to try and evoke her lost memories, but it hadn't been successful. She only saw them as strangers with gentle eyes. She didn't want to break their hearts any further. She shouldn't have come here. It was cruel to them, to look at her and feel love and to finally learn the truth of what happened their adopted daughter, and all she could do was stare back at them with confusion.

"Do you remember any of that?" The hope in her words sank into Carol's heart.

"I'm afraid not. It sounds lovely, but..." She shook her head.

"We have some old photo albums," Reg commented. "And a couple of boxes of your old things."

"We waited years for you to come back," Deanna remarked, "but we realized that might not happen, so eventually we packed it up. It was too much to walk by your room everyday, made up like you'd walk out of there any second."

"I'm sorry that I caused you so much anguish."

"Don't be sorry," Reg commanded in a soft tone. "Don't ever be sorry. You and your brothers were blessings, and I wouldn't change anything. Maybe checking that your windows were locked, but that's about it."

She laced her fingers together. "I'd appreciate seeing the albums and the boxes."

They guided Carol down the hall to her old bedroom. It was stripped and contained only boxes. Some were hers, but the others were marked with the names Spencer and Aiden. This must have become a storage room after they packed it up. She wondered just how many years had passed before they decided to call it quits. She felt like they never really did, like they kept hoping that she would come home one day and fill the hole she left behind.

"I'll go get some lemonade," Deanna told them. "Help yourself to anything. They're yours, after all."

"Thank you," Carol called after her.

Reg cleared his throat. "So, what happened to you? Do you remember that?"

"I was taken in by a kind woman, Gloria Martinez." Carol set her hands on one of the boxes. "She raised me and her son, Caesar, together. She had a daughter, but...she died."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was she a good mother to you? And her husband...was he good to you?"

"She didn't have a husband. I'm sure she did at one point, but by the time she adopted me...he wasn't in the picture. And yeah, Gloria was good to me. I think of her...fondly." She lowered her eyes, not wanting to hut him by saying she thought of Gloria as her mother. "Her son is like my brother."

"Oh, well that's good. I'm glad to hear it."

She opened the box and found a faded purple stuffed animal. She wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it must be the Spunky they referred to in their story. It was in rough shape. She must have dragged it with her everywhere. She wrapped her fingers around it and held it, and she tilted her head, wondering what it must have been like to lying down cuddling this thing every night. She could only recall Gloria checking in her every night for the first month she lived with them. There were no flashes of the little red-headed girl that stayed in this room, that cuddled this stuffed animal, that was their daughter.

"What do you do for a living? If you don't mind me asking."

"I'm a homicide detective." She set the stuffed animal down.

He smiled. "I figured. You were about solving mysteries when you were a child. We knew you'd get a job where you could make a difference and be challenged by mysteries."

Deanna returned with a tray of lemonade. "What have I missed?"

"She's a homicide detective," he answered, his grin proud.

"Wow, that's incredible." She offered her glass, and Carol accepted. "Have you ever...gotten injured?"

"Quite a lot." She nodded. "I've been shot, stabbed, choked, punched...and kidnapped a couple of times."

"Oh." Deanna lost a few shades of color from her face. "Well, they haven't...stopped you yet."

"And they won't."

Reg patted his wife's arm. "I don't meant to pry, but I was wondering if...you've settled down."

"No, I haven't even considered settling down." She bent down to looked through another box. "But I do have a child."

"You do?"

She nodded. "A little girl. Sophia."

"How old is she?" Deanna sat across from Carol in a chair.

"She's ten. She'll be eleven soon."

"She's a big girl." There were tears in Deanna's eyes. "You must be proud of her."

She hesitated. "It's complicated, but I am."

"What do you mean?" Reg sifted through the stacks of photo albums, trying to find the ones of Carol.

"It's a long story." She wasn't able to just tell it to anybody yet. To them, she was their grown up daughter, and they were eager to learn how she'd been doing after all this time. They wanted to be involved and to have things return slowly to how they were before. She wasn't their daughter anymore. She was Gloria's daughter, Caesar and Karen's sister. She didn't know how to tell that to them politely. They were strangers in her world, and she didn't know how to feel about them. She was grateful they'd kept her things and were willing to tell her about her childhood, but her childhood and theirs belonged to two different little girls. The sweet, innocent one that grew up here was theirs, but the starved, scared one belonged to no one. Then there was a third little girl who was still scared but no longer starved and dirty that belonged to Gloria. She couldn't blend them into one. It wasn't possible.

"Do you live around here?" Deanna changed the subject.

"No, I flew down yesterday. I—I live in New York."

"New York. That's...far from here. How...how did you end up in New York?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know."

"Well, how did you meet Gloria?"

"You don't want to do this," Carol spoke. "My life before Gloria and after you isn't one anyone wants to know. I'm sorry. It wasn't a good time for me."

" _I'm_ sorry." Reg set the photo album on his lap. "If I had made sure your window was closed or that I set the alarm, whatever happened to you wouldn't have happened."

"But it did, and it's a part of me. I can't erase it, and I don't want to change what happened. It was terrifying and difficult, but it lead me to my best friend and my mother. It lead me to my child, and I wouldn't ever change that. I don't want to disappoint or hurt either of you, and it was cruel of me to return here, but...I had to know what my life was like before."

"It wasn't cruel," Deanna assured her. "It's a lot to swallow, but I am so thrilled you came. We're so thrilled. I know it'll take time, but please, please can we just try? You don't have to tell us everything, but you were our daughter. I don't want you to leave without trying my best to get to know you."

Carol swallowed. "I'd like that, but not at all once. I need...some time alone."

"That's fine. All I ask for is one dinner. Your... Spencer and Aiden would love to see you again, but if that's too much, I understand."

"No, it's fine. I'm in town for another week. I have some other loose ends to tie up." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. "The second number is my cell phone, so give me a call to let me know about that dinner."

Reg accepted the card and handed her the album. "Bring it back with you."

"Thank you. I have to go, but...call me."

They walked her out and said goodbye. Carol drove back to her hotel and set the album down on the table. She removed her jacket and lied down on the bed, resting the back of her hand on her forehead and sighing. She felt drained. She had only been there for maybe an hour, an hour and a half, listening to their story, but it seemed liked days. She wasn't sure about the dinner, but she couldn't just up and leave. She owed it to the little girl she couldn't remember and to herself. There were still holes, but at least now she had a few pieces of her past to slap over them.

She unbuttoned two buttons on her blouse and grasped her locket, staring at the ceiling. They looked at her with such sorrow and joy at all once. They had found their long lost daughter, and they wanted to know everything about her. They wanted to be in her life. They were good people and good parents from how they kept things in such decent condition. She could tell that she was happy there. She didn't know what that happiness felt like; she could imagine. It must have been nice. She somewhat wished she could be their daughter again, if only for one dinner, one second. She wanted to erase their sorrow and their years of wondering and waiting and tears. She knew she couldn't, but if she could... In a heartbeat, she would.

She was surprised it wasn't like that with Sophia. She had lost ten years with her, but when she heard that Carol was her mom, it was like it didn't matter. Sophia was still young, and Carol had the rest of her life be with her, to learn everything about her and to help her find herself. The Monroes didn't have that. Carol was grown and had found herself. She didn't need parents, and if she did, she had Gloria. She didn't need two sets of parents, and she wouldn't know what to do with them. She hardly knew Deanna and Reg, and she confident she didn't wanted to know them. Part of her was curious, but another part didn't want that pain. She knew it would come, from them or from her, and she didn't want anything to do with that. There were memories she didn't want to share again, memories that would only hurt them and herself. Sam, Rick, Sophia, her alcoholism. Karen.

She closed her eyes and exhaled, trying to shut out the noise in her mind. She thought back to when she first met Karen. It was before she met Gloria. A couple of days before, maybe.

– – –

 _Carol ambled through the small store, knowing already where the cameras were, and she looked over the canned foods, causally tilting her head to the side. She felt sluggish. She had cleaned herself up at the usual hotel, but she felt sick. She didn't know what happened or how she ended up where she woke up, or much of anything, but she was coming around. She could still speak, read, count and write, so that's all that mattered. Whatever was before, it was gone, and nobody cared enough to help her reclaim it anyway._

 _She swiped a can of noodles and strolled down an aisle stocked with sweets like honey buns and candy bars and crème filled cookies. She had a weakness for them. She dreamed of one day purchasing a box of them. She dreamed of a lot of things, and she hoped she could achieve at least a few of them. She wanted to repay all the people she's stolen from to begin with, and she wanted to apologize. She hated doing this, but she had to survive. She had no one to turn to, nowhere to go. She didn't even know this city to try and help herself. She would have to learn. She'd have to learn so she could survive._

 _She pocketed five chocolate crème filled cookies and two brownies. She wanted to try for something healthy, but that wasn't going to happen. She had pushed her luck with getting a water bottle, toothbrush and toothpaste. She couldn't go back to that place. The owner glared at her, so he had to know what she did. She felt terrible, but she would make it up to him one day. She kept a list of all the things she'd taken, and she tallied it up. It wasn't a whole lot, not enough to hurt their sales, and she'd pay it back, so it was okay._

 _She knew it wasn't, but she had to convince herself it was. If she felt guilty, she wouldn't steal. If she didn't steal, she didn't eat. If she didn't eat, she died. She would have to figure how to get a job and buy an apartment and all of that crap. She could ask Eastman, although she vaguely remembered him. She knew he would want her to. He would want her to come by his place and eat, not steal, but she felt like a burden. There was no winning. She stole to eat and felt like a criminal, or she had a decent meal for free and felt like a freeloader. He had more important thing to worry about than whether or not some girl on the street ate today._

 _She shook her head and headed out, and she ran into someone, falling backward. "Sorry!"_

 _The woman she ran into moved hair from her face and smiled. "It's my fault. I wasn't paying attention." She narrowed her eyes at the young child in front of her._

 _Carol followed her gaze, and she saw the wrappers to the brownies she'd stolen were hanging out of her pocket. Her eyes widened, and she gulped, knowing she'd rat her out. This was the end. Oh, God._

" _Hey, Ralph." She didn't let Carol pass. "Could I have two sandwiches? My usual, please."_

" _Coming right up."_

 _She smiled at her. "I'm Karen, and you're going to have lunch with me."_

 _Carol gaped. "Umm—?"_

" _Unless you want me to tell," she whispered._

 _Carol wanted to glare, but she had a point. "Okay."_

 _Karen led her to the seats in the back and sat. "What's your name?"_

" _Jane." She pushed the pilfered items further into her jacket pockets. "Why do you care?"_

" _Why are you here?" She rested her chin on her knuckles. "Where are your parents?"_

" _Where are anyone's parents?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Beats me."_

" _Okay, are you a foster kid?"_

" _I'm nothing, okay? Stop asking." She averted her eyes and sighed._

" _Do you want chips? Something to drink?" Karen hopped up. "It's on me."_

" _I don't want your charity."_

" _Heh, it's not charity. I want to have lunch, and I have horrible anxiety. I can't eat alone, and my brother's at his friend's house. You're doing me a favor, and I'm paying you for it. So, what kind of chips do you like?"_

" _I dunno."_

" _You don't know? Okay, I'll surprise you." She touched her shoulder as she waltzed off to get chips and drinks._

 _Carol peered over her shoulder to see if she could slip out of the store before Karen came back. She didn't want to make friends. She didn't want to be attached to anybody. She wanted to go home. Granted she didn't have a home, and the only home she did have was a stack of cardboard boxes, but it was better than here at the scene of her crime. She could make a run for it, but that wouldn't save her. Karen was taller and near the exit, so she was stuck. Crap._

 _She placed her hands on the table and pursed her lips, jolting when Karen touched her again._

" _Sorry." She placed a bag of sour cream and cheddar chips and a bottle of cola in front of her and retook her seat. "I didn't mean to scare you."_

" _You didn't." She didn't touch the items. "How can you afford this?"_

" _I have a job. I'm going to school to be a marine biologist, and I have scholarship money, but I still have to work my ass off." Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I've been in work mode all day. I didn't mean to cuss in front of a kid."_

" _I've heard worse."_

" _And you don't need to hear it from me." She crossed her legs. "You're about my brother's age."_

" _Well, I don't know how old I am, so I can't be sure you're right."_

" _You don't know how old you are." Karen frowned. "Why not?"_

" _I just don't. I don't even know my birthday."_

" _Oh, God. No one told you?"_

" _No one's around to tell me anything."_

 _Karen was quiet, her frown deepened, and Carol could feel the pity coming off her in waves. Karen pulled out a smile and said, "Well, I think you're about ten or eleven. If it makes you feel better. You're pretty small. You haven't had a period yet, have you?"_

" _A what?" Carol cocked her head to the side. "Like at the end of a statement? How can you have one of those?"_

 _Karen blinked. "This is awkward."_

" _Is it common? I mean, I read a lot. I try to, but...the library's only open for so long." She lowered her eyes. "Is that a weird question?"_

" _No, no, it's not weird. Periods are weird, but not the question." Her smile softened. "Do you live around here?"_

" _You could say that."_

" _I live around here with my mother and brother. I can't afford my own place yet, but I hope that I can soon." She knocked her knees together. "What about you? Are you in school?"_

" _Is your brother?"_

" _He is. He hates it. He's in fifth grade, and he acts like it's the end of the world. The end the world is your senior year. You're so eager to get the heck out, but time moves so slow. You feel like time is laughing at you, but when it gets down to the last month, it speeds by. I told him that, and he called me a lair. In two languages."_

 _She nodded._

" _I can pay for those, you know," she murmured. "I don't mind to. You're so skinny."_

" _Pay for what?" She straightened. "You've already bought me the first meal I've had in weeks. I appreciate it."_

 _Karen nodded. "Anytime, Jane."_

– – –

 _She parted ways with Karen and hovered at the corner until she was sure Karen wasn't going to follow. She carried herself back to her boxes and hid from the world. She emptied her pockets and calculated how long this would last her. If she tried her best, maybe a week and a half. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up. She was tired of stealing and starving. She hated these boxes, and she knew one day they'd be hauled away, and she'd have to move somewhere else. Where could she go?_

 _She hugged her knees to her chest and snuffled. She couldn't stand being in here with someone else's old clothes that didn't fit, with stolen food that made her teeth feel grimy. She hated freezing at night and being soaked to the bone when it poured down rain. She hated how she couldn't remember anything, hated her parents for abandoning here, for not trying to find her. She didn't know anyone or anything, and it was horrible. She was so lonely, but she couldn't talk to anyone, because she might end up somewhere worse. She didn't know how that was possible, but it was. There was always another layer of shittier shit than the shit you're already buried in._

 _She rocked herself in the small space and sobbed. She liked Karen, but she would have to avoid her. Good people like Karen were trouble, and she couldn't afford to be in trouble. She couldn't afford anything, and she probably never would be able to. She was going to die down in this muck, and nobody would care. Nobody would notice. She was another pile of trash, and the sooner she was gone, the better. If she could just close her eyes and disappear... God, if only._

 _She cried herself to sleep, and when she woke up, it was dark. She knew better than to go out a night, so she stayed put. She had a book she could read, but the flashlight she'd gotten had no batteries. She closed her eyes and coiled up tighter to keep warm, and she shakily inhaled and exhaled until she drifted off again. Sleep was the only thing she liked. Nothing bad happened to her in dreams, and she couldn't feel bad in dreams either._

– – –

 _She stuffed the less worn clothes into the old backpack she'd found and left her cardboard house. She ran her eyes over the little hole she called home and said goodbye. She wasn't going to come back. She didn't know where she was going to go, but she couldn't come back here again. She had to find somewhere else, make it work. She couldn't stand this alley anymore. She refused to come back here._

 _She gulped and turned left and ran smack into someone. "I'm so sorry." She moved back and saw it was Eastman. "What are you doing here?"_

" _I was looking for you." He bent down to be at eye level. "You left the hospital. Why?"_

" _'Cause I just did."_

" _You had serious injuries, Carol. You should have stayed."_

" _I'm fine," she argued. "I'm alive, aren't I?"_

 _He shook his head. "How's your head? Does it hurt?"_

" _No, it doesn't."_

" _Your legs?"_

" _No." Her voice was soft. "Nothing hurts anymore."_

 _He nodded. "Come back to the shop with me. I made a new dessert, and I want you to try it."_

" _No."_

" _Why not? You love sugar."_

" _Because you're only doing it 'cause you feel sorry for me. You don't like me. You don't know me. You just want to feel better about yourself."_

" _That's not true. I do like you. You're my little taste tester. My son doesn't trust me anymore. You make one omelette with chocolate, and he never lets it go." He smiled at her. "C'mon, please, just come back with me. I know you're hungry, and you won't get any fresher food than at my place. I'll make your favorite."_

" _Are you gonna take me back to the hospital?"_

" _Not unless you need to be taken back."_

 _"Are you gonna leave me?" she whispered._

 _"No, kid. I'm...I'm not."_

 _She nodded, tears in the corners of her eyes. "Okay then."_

 _He set his hand on the back of her head when he stood up, and she didn't wince or jerk away. He was relieved. She was damn lucky. God was looking out for her, and he was happy to see it. To say she was in poor shape was an understatement, and to see her moving around and yelling at him again was amazing. He never wanted to see her like he had that evening. It haunted his dreams. She was a brave kid, and he would make sure damn she would grow into a brave woman._


	27. For Her Sake

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

 _Daryl blinked and woke for no apparent reason. He rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand, a dryness settling in his throat, and he pushed himself into a sitting position, seeing it was not yet morning. He ran a hand through his hair and slipped out of bed, the cool breeze that drifted in through the open window brushing against at his exposed skin._

 _He staggered to the kitchen and helped himself to a glass of water, noticing it was a couple minutes shy of four in the morning. He narrowed his eyes at the clock and exhaled, wondering why in hell he had woken up so early. He hadn't set an alarm. He didn't need to, not where he was currently. His internal clock was set for him to wake a noon at the earliest. So why at practically four in the morning was he awake?_

 _He ran his eyes over the unfamiliar living room and swallowed the last of the water. It was too dark to see anything, only outlines and vague shapes. The lights of the city provided no glow through the thick curtains that hung in the living room. Or so he assumed they were thick curtains. He somewhat indistinctly recalled seeing lights the last time he was here. That night was mostly a drunken blur, similar to tonight's. There were, however, scents and tastes he could recall. Touch, even. Forgetting skin as soft as hers would be...impossible._

 _He set the glass in the sink and returned to the bedroom. He lied down and covered his nude body, glancing over at the woman who slept soundlessly beside him. He couldn't see her face in the darkness, so he reached over, but at the moment he did, she rolled over. He tensed as she snuggled closer, as if seeking human contact. Seeking the warmth his body naturally emitted. He felt her hands at his hip, her curls brushing against his upper torso and arm, and a gentle moan escaped her lips as she drifted into a deeper sleep. Her knees bumped his thigh, and he chuckled under his breath. She was coiled up like a cat._

 _He swept his thumb over her forehead, but she did not wake. He moved upward toward the messy curls, combing his fingers through them, and the scent of her hair products rubbed off on his fingertips. He halted his fingers and frowned to himself, an icy feeling washing over him. He knew it all too well, and he wanted to physically distance himself from her, but he couldn't disturb her sleep. He wasn't one for conversation, even the ones they had._

 _He averted his gaze from her and exhaled, the icy feeling replaced by one of vacancy. Isolation within his own body. He knew the job he had voluntarily stepped into, and he knew the risks. He knew the restrictions—all the things he could not have. Like a relationship. Like children or love or a future with someone. Every day was to be viewed as his last yet simultaneously he needed to have the future of his goods and his people and himself all mapped out for the next ten, twenty years. That was his duty. That's what he swore to do for the man who saved him, took him in off the streets, brought him back from the brink. Him and his brother. He owed Yafim for that. He would keep his word, keep to the rules._

 _He sighed. He had never thought about this part of his life. Well, that part. This wasn't a relationship. There was no future here. There wouldn't Christmas dinners and meeting the parents and engagement anything. This was a mistake. That was how it was to be viewed, but he couldn't categorize it as such in his mind. He'd never done anything like this before. He wasn't pathetic enough to believe it was love, but it was something, and he'd never felt this with anybody else. He didn't even know her real name yet there was a connection here. It'd been there when she saw him at the bar that first night. Like something clicked, and he didn't know what._

 _Tsk. Perhaps it was the shots, and he was still hungover. Perhaps it wasn't. It didn't change facts. By this time tomorrow there would be nothing. She would return to her life, and he to his. He had an entirely new world to adjust to, a seat of power, and he wouldn't abuse it. For that to happen, he needed to think about each and every person in his life. He needed to shut the ones that didn't matter out, protect the ones that did and...sent away the ones that could mean something to him. The ones who can't protect themselves from the dark world he was entering. He knew there was no using trying to send away Merle. He'd stick to his ass like glue, and he knew nothing could kill Merle. Feed him a hammer, and he'd shit out nails. That was the type of man he was. Only Merle could kill Merle. He would be fine no matter what kind of storm they ran into._

 _His eyes drifted to the redhead who slept against him. But she wouldn't be fine. She was an average woman who had a passion for her job and would likely be back at it soon. She was tough, but not enough for the men that would be shadowing him. Rivals who would do anything to her if they thought she could lead them to him or persuade him to stop his business. He wouldn't subject her to that. He knew it would be damn near impossible, but he would not have blood on his hands. He would try his damnedest to achieve that goal. He would retract it only— **only** —if there were absolutely no other options available._

 _He hung his head and smirked. He knew why he'd woken up now. Yafim and Merle both told him to remain in the shadows, to keep a low profile and to avoid...this. He hadn't gone out with the intention of finding someone. He had simply gone out, and while he could have ended it yesterday, he didn't. She was fascinating, beautiful, intelligent. He didn't know what to make of her, so he wanted to know more. As much as she would allow him to know, and he knew it was stupid. He knew this could easily have gone to hell, but he couldn't simply walk away. He'd have to after tonight. Things began tomorrow morning, and he wouldn't involve her any further. He wouldn't involve her, and he was so eager to keep her out of it that he woke up at nearly four in the morning to give him an escape. She wouldn't question him leaving in the middle of the night. There would be no one to question, and he doubted she'd remember much. He could only recall pieces of last night, and tonight he hadn't drank so much, but he would make himself forget. It was how he kept her safe. Forget and move on._

 _"You exhale a lot."_

 _He blinked. "You're awake?"_

 _She lifted her head. "Been awake for an hour." She covered herself with the sheet and peered at him through curled bangs. "I can feel your blood pressure rising."_

 _He chuckled. "Yeah, bet you can."_

 _She brushed hair from her face and stared at him. "You're upset about something. Work, I assume. Difficult new position. You're...unsure."_

 _"You a cop?" he joked._

 _She simply smiled. "I'm good at reading people is all. Besides you look like you don't sleep much either."_

 _"Not so much here lately," he replied. "You? What keeps you up?"_

 _"Busy thoughts." She averted her eyes. "I can't silence them."_

 _"What thoughts?"_

 _"Thoughts of regrets," she whispered. "Thoughts that bring me great agony and hatred. Thoughts that almost make me drag me to the brink of self-destruction." She didn't mind telling him these things. Spilling her darkest thoughts to a strangers wasn't a frightful thing, because she knew he wouldn't remember this or her in a week. She wouldn't see him ever again, so his thoughts and feelings didn't matter. "You can't imagine them."_

 _"I can't?"_

 _"No, but I don't expect you to try." She met his eyes. "Why do you keep sighing, Dixon?"_

 _He shook his head. "Busy thoughts."_

 _"Stealing my lines," she teased. "How rude of you."_

 _"Ain't all I'm gonna steal." He leaned over and kissed her roughly, not wanting to his earlier feelings and thoughts to come back._

 _She broke the kiss. "Mmm."_

 _"What 'mmm'?"_

 _"Aren't you tired?" She shifted on the bed, still holding the sheet around her._

 _"No. Why do you ask?"_

 _"Just making sure." She slid her leg over his to straddle his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "That mmm was me thinking."_

 _"About?"_

 _She pushed him back on the bed and splayed her hands on his chest. "You." She leaned closer to his face. "That was an awfully rough kiss."_

 _"Interested to see how more rough I can get?" He locked eyes with hers._

 _She chuckled and kissed him, leaving his question unanswered, and when she pulled back, she murmured in his ear. "Quite the opposite. You've already been rough with me, and while I did enjoy that...I'd rather...do something a little more gentle."_

 _"Gentle?"_

 _"You're lonely," she remarked. "I can see it in your eyes, Dixon, and I won't ask why, but you should know that I am too."_

 _He studied her eyes. "You?"_

 _"Make me feel...like I'm not alone," she murmured._

 _He pushed himself up and slid his arms around her, pulling her close. He didn't take his eyes from hers the entire time, and he cupped her cheek. She leaned into his palm, and he held her even closer. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he pressed a tender kiss to her lips. He heard her chuckle, and it was a sorrow-filled sound, but she grasped his neck and kissed him back. Her lips were soft against his, and he lost himself. He knew it wasn't a good idea. None of this was, but he couldn't stop. It was selfish, but fuck it. Fuck the rules, fuck tomorrow. If he was going to be basically alone for the rest of his life, he'd allow himself tonight._

 _He set her down underneath him, her soft kisses endless, and he was almost positive she was crying. He asked if she wanted to stop, but she smiled and shook her head. He had never done anything like this before, so he brushed away her tears and kissed her forehead. She seemed surprised by that._

 _"Don't leave," she muttered once her tears were gone._

 _Instead of responding, he sealed her lips with his._

 _––_

 _It was six 'o clock, the sunlight swept the floor and was approaching their faces. Daryl held Anne in his arms as she slept. Daryl hadn't fallen asleep, and he wondered if she was truly resting. After last night, it made sense for her to be so exhausted. It was an interesting night, that was for sure. He'd never done that before. Being tender, like they were a couple, not two strangers who met accidentally at a bar. It was different, and he knew it was best if he just put it out of his mind. It wouldn't happen again._

 _He dressed and brushed a hand through his hair. He started to leave, but hesitated. He looked back at her, seeing how peaceful and somehow even more beautiful she was as she rested. He didn't want to wake her, so he didn't speak. It was goodbye. He hoped to not run into her again. If he did, he was fucked, because part of him was hoping for that next encounter. That wasn't possible, so he hoped— **really hoped** —they never met again._

 _Carol opened her eyes to the sound of a door shutting, and she exhaled, groggy, feeling the warmth of a kiss on her forehead. Her mind was a hazy, and she couldn't remember much. It wasn't the booze. Well, not entirely. She ran a hand over her face and smiled to herself before scolding herself and burying her face in her pillow. That was it. That had to be it. She had a case to work, a sniper to one day catch. More important things than...whatever the hell the past two nights were. It was time to wake up and get back to work. The city wasn't going to save itself after all._

 _– – –_

 _Daryl sat at his desk, his feet propped up on it as he looked over the latest shipment. He knew who was distributing them and where, and he'd gone over all the angles to ensure nothing would go wrong. He'd been doing this for the last week and a half. He knew how it was going to go down by heart, and as he cut off more chances for mistakes, Merle began to pester him._

 _"You've been in here all day. For the past two weeks."_

 _"No, I haven't." Daryl turned the page over. "It's been a week and a half."_

 _"Sure, "a week and a half"." Merle entered the door. "Do you even know what the sky looks like anymore? What season it is?"_

 _"I have a window."_

 _Merle rolled his eyes. "No pussy is worth this much pine, little brother."_

 _Daryl dropped his pen and glowered at him. "That ain't what I'm doin'."_

 _"That's exactly what you're doin'. I can smell the pine from down the hall."_

 _Daryl snorted. "You do realize this is the first big movement we've got, right? I can't spend all my time getting drunk. It doesn't work that way, Merle."_

 _"The boys got it covered."_

 _"And I wanna make sure the boys are covered," he retorted. "That's what I'm doing in here."_

 _"You're coming out with me. Right now."_

 _"No, I'm not."_

 _"You are." He shoved Daryl's feet off the desk and snatched the papers from his lap. "C'mon, change. You've been wearin' that for two weeks."_

 _He growled._

 _"Yeah, tell it to someone else, Cujo."_

 _"Merle, this is some serious shit!" Daryl shot out of the chair so quickly it fell to the ground. "I can't just spend my days like you do! I have an actual job to do. If I fuck up, we're dead. Our guys are dead."_

 _"Which is why we're goin' out." He met his brother's eyes. "Abe will hold down the fort while we're out. Do you want to hire a designated driver too?"_

 _"One drink."_

 _"Brother, the only one I'll settle for is one in the morning—when we come back." He slapped Daryl on the back and led him from the room. "Take a shower and get changed. You look like shit."_

 _Daryl stumbled into his bedroom from the force of his brother's push. He groaned but saw there was no escaping. He could use some fresh air. It might sooth the ball of stress in his stomach. It might clear his mind, and honestly, he'd gone through most of the alcohol in the house. It was easier to drink his nights away and to work his ass off during the day. It was what his job was. The whiskey, bourbon and rum were just bonuses. They helped keep his mind from wandering to places it shouldn't go. There was a set of rules he had lived by, and new ones he would likely die by, and in both set neither one permitted relationships. They weren't for people like him, and they never would be._

 _He ducked his head under the hot water that shot out of the shower head and closed his eyes. He didn't know why he couldn't get her out of his mind. She wasn't his first, nor was she all that special. She was just a woman he met at a bar. That was all there was to it. All there could be to it. So why in hell did she keep popping back up in his mind when he least expected it? It made no sense. He wasn't the type to be hung up on some woman, no matter how good the sex was, no matter what the circumstances were. She was just another woman. For her sake, she had to be._

 _– – –_

 _Rosita covered her ears and cringed outside the bathroom on the floor with the drink Michonne had asked for in between her knees. She could still hear Carol vomiting in the next room, and she could handle maggots and dead bodies and viscera, but not puke. It was not her strong suit. Her stomach was churning at just the sound. God, Michonne was a warrior. She couldn't be in there with her._

 _Michonne bent down beside Carol. "Are you all right?"_

 _"Yeah." She pushed herself back against the wall. "I'll let you know when the rug print leaves my knees."_

 _Michonne smirked and sat beside her. "Do you need anything?"_

 _She sighed. "What I can't have."_

 _Michonne tilted her head. "What you can't have? You don't mean—"_

 _"No." She shook her head, knowing what Michonne was assuming. "No, not alcohol. Just...company. Rick was always good at that. He could be shit with timing and with dates, but if I needed him—desperately needed him—he always found a way to be here."_

 _"'Cause we're chop liver." Rosita peeked into the room. "Are you done?"_

 _"Yes." She met her eyes. "I do appreciate you both being here. You're...amazing friends, but there are some things you can't and won't do for me that he did."_

 _"Back massages and food runs at late hours are as far as I'll go." Rosita handed her the glass. "I love you, but I'm taken."_

 _"Ha ha." Carol took the glass and held it in both hands. "And I didn't mean anything sexy."_

 _"I can't see Rick being sexy," Rosita admitted. "When I try, all I see is him dressed up as a cartoon character for Sam's birthday."_

 _Michonne laughed. "He demanded we burn all the pictures, but I still have a few."_

 _"Me too." Carol sipped the drink and swallowed. "I have a lot of pictures."_

 _Michonne glanced at her then reached over and set a hand on her knee. "Do you want to come and stay with me? Andre would love to have you, and you wouldn't be here all by yourself."_

 _"No, I'd rather stay here."_

 _"I'll keep you company." Rosita scooted into the room. "From today to your due date, I'm going to be right here. I'm the more charming and easier on the eyes Caesar. And I won't nag you."_

 _"You nagged me all morning," Carol corrected. "To take my vitamins, to eat the breakfast you'd made me, to put on socks. You even went out and replaced everything in my fridge after nagging that my diet choices weren't healthy enough."_

 _"I'm just looking out for my little niece or nephew in there."_

 _"It's not," Carol icily shot back. "Don't even think of this child as family, Rosita."_

 _Rosita lowered her eyes. "You—you're right. I'm sorry."_

 _"This child is nothing to us, all right?" Her eyes were stern and empty, a sorrow building behind them, and they could both see it. "He or she will never be mine. He or she will never be a part of our family. I'm just carrying this child. It's not mine."_

 _Rosita nodded. "Um, I'll go now. I should check on the boys, make sure they aren't trying to take over the precinct without us." She climbed to her feet. "I'll bring back dinner. Your favorite."_

 _"Thank you," Carol murmured._

 _Rosita exchanged a look with Michonne before hurrying out the door._

 _"It'll get easier." Michonne helped her to her feet. "You know that."_

 _Carol swallowed. "I don't want easier, Michonne. I want it to be over." She exited the bathroom and set the glass down in the sink._

 _"Over?" She followed her to the kitchen. "What do you mean?"_

 _She gripped the sink, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill. "I want this pregnancy to over. I want to wake up and have it all be over."_

 _"Carol." Michonne could hear the cracks in her words._

 _"Every second...that passes," she strained, hot tears obstructing her vision, "I become more and more afraid." She turned to face her friend. "It's not just the sniper that has me terrified, Michonne."_

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _"I'm scared of myself." She crossed her arms. "I lost one child, and I know I have to hide this one to protect it, but my mind keeps telling me it'll be different. That I can protect this child. That I can keep it safe—" Her voice broke, and tears streamed down her cheeks, pooling at her chin and falling down onto her shirt. "I know what I have to do, but I want to keep this child. I want to raise it and...be a family."_

 _"You know that isn't possible."_

 _"My mind knows," she replied, "but...the rest of me doesn't give a shit. And I know how selfish that is. It would be completely selfish for me to keep this baby, because all that would do is put it in danger. Getting pregnant was such a mistake."_

 _"You can't help that."_

 _"I should have been better." She wiped at her eyes. "Smarter than this. God, what the hell was I even thinking?"_

 _"You weren't." Michonne grasped her shoulders. "And that's okay. Shutting your brain off is okay, Carol. Having sex with someone is okay. Getting pregnant by whoever you met wasn't the best, but you're going to have a child. Not with you, but out there in the world. A child from you will only make the world better. I know it'll be tricky, avoiding the sniper and lying to your friends—your family—but this is how your child survives. This is how you survive. You said so yourself. I know you're emotional, and I know you're stressed out, but please don't linger on the details. You are pregnant, but you're not alone. You have a plan. It'll work. No harm will come to you or your child. I swear."_

 _"How can you be sure? He has eyes everywhere! I don't even know where to find him! How do I know that he doesn't already know about the baby? That he isn't just waiting for the perfect moment to strike? It's all I can think about, Michonne. I can't sleep, because I see...a red laser when I close my eyes. I can hear his rifle firing, and—my blood runs cold."_

 _"I'm sure that I will do everything in my power to keep you alive." She locked eyes with her. "I am here for you. Rosita is here for you. This child will be born healthy and will find happiness with his or her new family. You will bless a couple with a child. You'll make their lives better. I know the hole that will be there will try to consume you, but remember this: the sniper will never touch your child. You will have a piece of you in this world, surviving and surely bettering their parents' lives and possible even the lives of the people around them._

 _"And one day when that son of a bitch is behind bars, you can find your baby, and it'll be safe." She smiled at Carol. "Whether you introduce yourself or just check in, that's up to you."_

 _"Closed adoption. I won't have access to the lives of the couple who take my child in. Of course I fully intend to inspect every inch of their lives before I sign anything. But no contact will be made once I've signed. They won't even know my real name, nor I theirs." She would have Rosita dig into them, but blackout things that could tip Carol off to who they were or where they lived._

 _"Well, you still have your police access."_

 _Carol smiled then. "I can't abuse my power like that."_

 _"You can pretend to," Michonne murmured. "I wouldn't turn you in for it."_

 _Her smile widened. "Thank you, Michonne." She drew in a sharp breath. "That means a lot to me. And you being here."_

 _"You can say this kid isn't our family, but it is." She gestured to her stomach. "Always will be, and we look out for family. We'll be an invisible hand."_

 _Carol hugged her tightly, squeezing her eyes shut as fresh tears fell free. "When I'm further along and tell you I want to keep this child, please remind me why I can't."_

 _"I will."_

 _"Don't let me forget."_

 _"Not for a second."_

 _– – –_

 _He'd been staring at the ceiling for the last three hours now, the sound of soft snoring only driving him up the wall, and finally he couldn't lie and listen any longer. He removed the woman's arm and swung out of bed. He slipped his pants on and left the room. He knew Merle was either blacked out or still working hard, and he didn't want to see either._

 _He swiped a bottle of water from the fridge and sat outside on the steps, looking out at the world. He gulped down half the bottle in two large swigs. He couldn't even taste the water. He was exhausted, needed a break from life in general, but breaks left his mind clear to wondering. There were far too many if onlys and what ifs that were all too happy to absolutely swallow him. It was best to keep pushing himself. He was only a month in after all, and he'd yet to establish himself in this new world. The Governor was all too gung-ho to take over his turf, so he had to step up his game. Let him know that there was a new player in town that he should not try to fuck with._

 _He brought the bottle back to his lips and caught the scent of peaches. He blinked and realized it was Rosita's. It was her favorite, peach-flavored sparkling water. He released a bitter chuckle before taking a drink. He closed the lid and inhaled the crisp night air. "Shit." He hated thinking about her. He hated himself for allowing his mind to even open to possibilities that didn't exist for him. He knew it was unwise and downright unrealistic to even ponder. He also knew it'd result in her slow death if he acted on his thoughts. He just couldn't keep them away, and he had no clue why._

 _He had never thought of himself as the type to settle down. You know, beautiful wife, kids, a minivan, a house in the suburbs. Those weren't things men like him had. Kids, yeah. But the rest of it? Hell no. He wasn't made to have that. He was made to do this. Live in the shadows, risk his neck every day and avoid normal life as much as possible. That's what he knew he'd be since he was a child. That's who Merle was, and as his baby brother, of course he fell in the same line and played the ape game. Only now it was real. The stakes were higher, and if anything went wrong, a lot of people would wind up dead. Innocent people, and he wouldn't have their lives on his hands. He wouldn't let them bleed. Not if he could help it._

 _Yafim once told him about a woman he loved. Beautiful, charming, had a smile that could brighten any storm, he told Daryl. She was a dancer. They'd met in college, back when Yafim was a small fish, and he fell in love. The night he planned to propose was the night the man he worked for came to him and gave him a promotion. His entire business. Yafim was told to chose, but he thought he could have both. The girl and the business, so he proposed. It was fine and dandy until one of his enemy's shipments had been tampered with. Not knowing who had messed with the shipment, this enemy took it out on all possible opponents. So on the day of their wedding, Yafim's beautiful, charming dancer was found in the truck of his car. She no longer wore a smile that would brighten any storm. Instead her eyes were bloodshot, her body bruised from being held down, tortured, gang raped and finally killed. Due to the damage to her face, it was a closet casket funeral. Yafim received flowers from the man who had killed her the day after the funeral, warning him to not fuck with him and his again. When the asshole's next shipment arrived, Yafim had it and several of his men blown to bits. Over the next ten years, Yafim hunted them all down and slaughtered them until he found their leader. He didn't tell Daryl all that he did to him, but the answer was evident in his eyes. That man had endured countless hours of the worst torture Yafim could think up and then some._

 _Daryl closed his eyes. He knew his choices, so the wife and kids and car weren't in his future. He had made peace with that. He'd thought that was how his life would go since he was a kid. He wouldn't be the piece of shit his old man was to him to any kids he might have, so to make that easier he wasn't going to have any. He set the bottle on the ground and searched his pockets for a cigarette, lighting it when he found it._

 _However that goddamn woman he met made him question himself. He felt something when he was with her, and in time it might have grown into something more. It terrified him to think that, but for it to be a month later and the scent of peaches bringing those memories back as clear as day meant something. He didn't want to admit it, but it took a lot of effort to get her off his mind. And it wasn't even her. Well, it might be; she was one hell of a woman. But mostly it was the idea of her. If he could feel that for her then all of that happy ending movie shit was possible for him. He had already told himself he couldn't have that, and she just had to show up to prove him wrong. Like what the fuck? He finally found a place in the world, a job he can do well, and the only thing that could ruin it was nowhere it sight, so the universe decided to sent her his way as a fuck you._

 _He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb. If he left now, if he chose a life that he was never supposed to have, it might work out. Hell, he might find her in that bar or out in the street, and it'd be some cheesy ass ending. Or maybe The Gov and his many men would somehow find him and her and do worse to them than the former Gov or whatever he was called did to Yafim's dancer. At least on this path, he knew that if he fucked up and walked into landmine, it was his landmine. He had made his mistakes that led him there. If he had someone at his side who didn't know the consequences and stepped onto a landmine meant for him, he couldn't accept that. He couldn't live with that weight. He couldn't take someone from anyone's life simply because he didn't want to be alone._

 _"So, this is where you snuck off to." The brunette Merle had "found" for him stood in the doorway in his shirt. "Come back to bed."_

 _Daryl scratched his chin and blow out smoke. "Go home."_

 _"Excuse me?"_

 _"Go home. Now." He didn't look at her, but he heard her scoff and walk away. He smashed the cigarette out onto the step and stood up to head inside. He'd be shit partner and father anyway._

 _– – –_

 _"How did you end up on desk duty?" Caesar was smirking at his partner. "For a month? Or was it two? What did you do?"_

 _"None of your business." She smirked back at him. "You and Lerner will be together, so try not to miss me. She's kind of a hardass."_

 _"Great. Just what I needed in my life."_

 _"You'll be fine."_

 _"Yeah, I guess."_

 _She lifted her eyes from the paperwork on her desk to his. "What's going on? You've sounded depressed the last two days. Did something happen with Andrea?"_

 _"No. No, we're good." He bit his bottom lip. "We...just had a scare is all."_

 _"A scare?" Carol's brows narrowed. "What kind of scare? Like cancer? Or pregnancy?"_

 _He nodded and held up two fingers, meaning Carol's second guess. "Andrea thought she was pregnant, but it was just a late period. She's kinda bummed about it. I didn't know having kids meant that much to her. I was the one always pushing, so it's strange to see her like this. I don't really know what to say."_

 _"Have you guys been trying?"_

 _"No. No, we've barely seen each other actually. I've been busy with triple homicide, and she has a case that's kept her in the office most nights. I think her delayed period was brought on by stress." He paused to ask, "That's possible, right? It's a thing."_

 _She smiled, trying not to chuckle. "Yeah, it's a thing."_

 _"I've picked up some of the slack at home. Laundry, dishes, picking up the pillows and stuff like that. I don't know that it helps, but it's the best I can do. I'd like to be home with her, but this case isn't going to solve itself."_

 _"I'm sure she understands. Just keep doing what you're doing. It helps. It does."_

 _He nodded. "I should go and debrief my temporary partner, but enjoy yourself."_

 _"I'll try."_

 _"I'll bring you back lunch."_

 _"Oh, don't bother. Michonne and I are going out for lunch. It's a belated birthday gift from me to her."_

 _"Could I come? Or is this a girls only thing?"_

 _"Girls only. Sorry."_

 _He sucked on his teeth. "Fine. I'll bring back dessert then. You know how Eastman is, and I could go for his key lime pie. You?"_

 _"That sounds delicious."_

 _"It's good to know I can still be useful." He smirked and snatched her coffee, taking a drink and groaning. "What the hell is that?"_

 _"Tea." Michonne swiped it from him. "I bought it for Carol. This sencha green tea is my cousin's favorite, but in my opinion the black tea is to die for."_

 _"If I have to have leaves in water, I like soup." He groaned. "Since when do you drink tea?"_

 _"Since Michonne's cousin bought a butt load and dumped half off on her. I'm doing my duty as a good friend and helping her get through half of it. Besides I think have a bug that's been going around, and tea helps with my sore throat."_

 _"Well, I just consumed sickness and tea. It's a great day." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm gonna go."_

 _Michonne set the cup down on Carol's desk. "Do you need anything?"_

 _"I'm fine, but thanks for asking."_

 _"Just let me know if that changes."_

 _"Michonne, I'm...on desk duty, not dying. I'm okay. I've been through this before."_

 _"This isn't like before, but I see your point. I'll be in my office. I'll see you for lunch."_

 _Carol smiled to herself and returned to work, Michonne slipped back in her office and Rosita pretended to be working. She knew Carol an appointment today. It would tell them what the sex of the baby was. Rosita wasn't allowed to tag along this time, but she knew they'd tell her the sex regardless. She still wanted to be there. She'd made a lot of mistakes the past couple of weeks, not noticeable ones to Carol, but she wanted to make up for them. She wanted to be with Carol through this. It wasn't to ease her guilt. It was to ease Carol's discomfort and remorse. She wanted to make things better for Carol. She didn't know how she was going to do that, but she wanted to try._

 _When lunch rolled around, Carol and Michonne departed from the station for the appointment, and Rosita stayed behind. She swore to herself that she wouldn't hack into the hospital's database or Michonne or Carol's phones. She would stay behind and actually work. Possibly compile a list of foods, vitamins, candles and bath salts for Carol as her pregnancy progressed. And for afterward, she would find...something for what came after._

 _"Are you all right?" Michonne seated herself beside Carol in the room they'd been led to. "You seem pale."_

 _"I'm not sleeping much." She shrugged a shoulder. "It's nothing I can't handle."_

 _"You shouldn't have to handle it alone. It's not just you in there." She took her hand. "I've got it covered for the last few months. I'll check in on you every day, and I'll be there when the baby comes. Until then your only job is to eat and rest."_

 _"The tea you give me gives me nightmares," Carol admitted. "The nighttime tea."_

 _"Then don't drink it anymore. I'll get rid of it."_

 _"I already did. You don't have to worry about me so much, Michonne."_

 _"I do, because you don't."_

 _Carol shook her head. "I do. More than you can know."_

 _The doctor entered then and the routine check up began. Michonne had insisted that they use a fake ID for her appointments, making the pregnancy under her real name "go away". She didn't trust that the sniper couldn't access them or have someone else hack into them, so she had Carol use a different hospital that was out of their way. She didn't want anybody to recognize her. The sniper had eyes everywhere, therefore Michonne had to blind the eyes of people around them. It had worked these last few months, and it would work until she had Carol moved to the safe house for the remainder of her pregnancy. There were glitches in the system that Michonne was using to keep questions away, and if they came to light, they came to light. At least this child would be safe, and so would Carol. Besides with Rosita on their side, it would disappear before anyone even knew it was there. She didn't have to worry about it. Much, anyway. She was worried that Dr. S was involved, but he knew about the pregnancy, the sniper and the risks. He wouldn't confess this secret for anyone, and she prayed no one forced him to try._

 _"So, do you have a preference?" the ultrasound technician inquired._

 _"Not really," Carol honestly replied._

 _"And you?"_

 _Michonne smiled. "I don't have one, but I think it's a girl. I can tell by how she's carrying."_

 _"Do you have any other children?"_

 _"A son. We both have a son."_

 _"Oh!" The tech looked from Carol to Michonne. "So this is your second child...together?"_

 _Carol covered her mouth with her hand as to not laugh in the poor girl's face, and Michonne was struggling herself with the girl's wide eyes. It wasn't funny, but at the same time it was damn hilarious. It'd happen to them twice before, because Michonne made a mistake with the IDs. That, or Rosita thought it would be funny to make them a married couple. She couldn't figure out which it was, but her money was on Rosita. There were worse things to be called that were actual insults, and honestly if she was, she'd lucked out with Michonne._

 _Michonne had nodded at the girl's question, turning her head to "cough" in the crock of her elbow, and Carol patted her hand._

 _"This might be cold." She cleared her throat. "So, are you excited to find out the sex? You can start planning the nursery."_

 _"I am very excited," Michonne answered. "I was thinking a light gray. We could add colorful animals above the crib and along the walls. I think it'd be easier so when the baby's older and wants to change the color, it won't be hard to cover."_

 _"That sounds lovely." She smiled warmly at them and began the ultrasound. "Okay, let's see."_

 _It was the same old, Carol was only invested in the child's health, and it was good for how far along she was. The rest didn't matter. She couldn't afford for the rest to matter. A few jokes were fine, but anything further made the world seem gray. She wouldn't be swallowed by it, not again._

 _"You were right. It's a girl."_

 _"You owe me ten bucks." Michonne smirked. "I'll take it in a coffee."_

 _Carol gulped. "A girl?"_

 _She nodded. "Congratulations."_

 _A soreness spread through Carol's throat, her eyes filling with tears, and she discovered that it was possible to even emptier than she already was. It wasn't so surprising. There was always another level. She wondered how many more she'd sink into before this was all over. Too many, she suspected. Too goddamn many._

 _– – –_

 _"He assaulted two of our men," Merle seethed. "We have to retaliate!"_

 _"Yeah, I know!" Daryl retorted. "But we gotta be smart about this. You know his sniper could be anywhere. I don't want to lose anyone else, and I don't want to not wake up, because he put one between my eyes. Calm down, Merle."_

 _He huffed. "You better make this right, brother. He doesn't get to fuck with us."_

 _Daryl shook his head. "Just let me think, all right? We can't just rush in. It'd be catastrophic."_

 _"I'm gonna get a drink."_

 _"I'll call Abe and Axel. We'll get this sorted, and we'll...make it right." His phone buzzed, and he hurried from the room to meet Rosita in the hall. "We have a problem."_

 _"I heard from Axel. I'm already on it." She pulled a picture out of her pocket. "We need to talk first."_

 _He took the picture from her and registered it was a sonogram. "You're pregnant?"_

 _"No, and clearly you see that it says thirty-three weeks." She led him into the den and sat him down. "This is your child."_

 _"What the hell are you doin'?" Merle demanded, having seen the sonogram in her hand in the hall. "We had a deal!"_

 _Rosita lowered her voice as she spat, "I am already deceiving one of my friends. I will not do the same to him. So, fuck off, Merle. I can handle being torn in half by my job and my loyalties, but this is too much! He has a right to know."_

 _"Do you know what's happenin' outside? The Governor just brutally beat the shit out two of our men! Our best men, and you wanna add a fuckin' baby to the mix? Why? 'Cause this ain't about him."_

 _"Telling him he has a child does not mean he'll want to claim the child. If the perils are only increasing, he'll let the child go. But he has a right to make that decision. It was his sperm after all."_

 _"You're a damn fool, Rosita."_

 _"Maybe, but I don't care. I can't keep this a secret anymore." She turned back to Daryl. "One of your...conquests got pregnant. I was doing a check to make sure none of them were working for the Governor, because there was no way he could have known about that drop without inside aid. I found her hospital records, then found her and got DNA from the child. She's yours."_

 _Daryl shook his head. "Wait, you think one of our own did this?"_

 _"Not anymore. They've all been cleared." She stuffed her hands in her pocket. "And you're a father. If you're blocking that fact out to try and sooth a panic attack, calm down. You don't have to be involved. She's got it covered."_

 _"How do you know that?"_

 _"I've spoken with her. I know what she plans to do with the child, and I fully support her."_

 _"Plans to do? What do you mean?"_

 _"Adoption. This woman isn't...suited for raising a child, so I've been looking through many files of couples who are seeking to adopt. I've found a family that are willing and eager to take this baby in. I've done a thorough background check, and they're great people. I am confident she'll be in good hands."_

 _Daryl's mouth further dried out, and his eyes fell on the sonogram. "She..." He had made his choice. He chose to become the Archer. He'd been dedicated to this for over a year now, and he was proficient at it. It was the first time he'd felt worth a damn, and now he had this. He had a child that was going to be born. He had been careful with everything. How could this happen? How could he have a child? Unborn, but soon to be._

 _"I'm sorry I've only just told you. I hadn't planned on telling you, but I wanted you to know that you have a choice." Rosita sat beside him. "I know you'll make the right one." She couldn't keep this to herself for a second. She and Merle had planned to, but it wasn't up to them. They weren't the parents. He was the uncle, and she was just the good friend to the mother. They weren't directly involved, and Daryl had a right to know there could be more in his life than drugs and blood and guns. He had a right to know things could be different. That he could be different. He was a good man, and he would be a good parent, and he should have the chance to make that decision for himself. Whether he forgave her for hiding it all these months or not, she didn't care. She already held guilt and self-loathing because of what she was doing to one dear friend. She couldn't add more. She would implode._

 _"The choice has already been made," Merle remarked. "The woman's giving the baby up. The deal is sealed. What, you're gonna go tell a couple who've been tryin' to have a baby for years and years that they can't have the child they've paid for? That you want to be in its life when the mother clearly didn't want you involved?"_

 _Rosita glared. "Don't make him feel like shit for considering—"_

 _"I ain't! It's the truth! Another truth is we live in a world too damn hazardous for a child! Children are leverage in this world, and you don't even want to know what could happen to her should The Gov or worst get their hands on her to get to you! This is the real world, and horrible things happen to little girls every day. Now add in the shit we see and do on a daily basis and tell me that little girl will be safe and sound!"_

 _"I'm not asking him to take her in!" Rosita shot back. "I'm giving him a chance to say goodbye and to know part of him will be alive out there in the world! That's why I told him. I don't want her in danger. I'd sooner die than let anything happen to her!"_

 _"You do want him to take her in! I can see it all over your face!"_

 _She shook her head. "I need to get some air. If you want to talk to me later, Daryl, you know where to find me." She stomped out of the room and away from Merle before she had to pistol whip him. She collapsed onto a bench outside the guest bedroom and buried her face in her palms, cursing herself and Merle. He was right. She did want to be the aunt to that baby girl. She wanted to raise and love that little angel, to be able to assure Carol that she was fine and to actually know it. She wanted to protect this child from the cruel world like she couldn't protect Sam. It was a self-centered thought. She knew that, but she wanted to do right by Carol, even if it didn't seem that way._

 _Losing Sam was the most difficult loss of her life—of all their lives—and she knew the sniper would never give up. He had resources they didn't know about. His reach could be greater than they knew, and if that were true then she wanted to be in between this girl and the bullet he would try to put through her. She could protect what was right in front of her. She could keep her safe if she was within arm's reach. However if the child was across the state or in an entirely different one and the sniper located her, how would Rosita know? How could they protect her? She would be a sitting duck, and Rosita couldn't bear to tell Carol her other child had been taken by the sniper as well. She couldn't handle relaying that news. If she was here with the child, she would keep her safe, keep the sniper in the dark. It would be best for her, the child and Daryl. Even Carol, because if she wanted to know how the girl was doing, Rosita could honestly answer. She could tell her the little things and have them be true. She could lighten Carol's burden and depression. She could make up for her mistakes. She could do so much better this time._

 _Not just her, but Daryl. He had the weight of all his men on his shoulders. He closed himself off to affection and worked himself into exhaustion. She'd found him passed out at his desk more than once, and he'd been in the hospital for malnutrition twice. He was going to kill himself performing this job, and she knew he would slow down if he had a child here. He would concentrate on her well being and his own. He would nurture and raise her and find a balance he was missing. He would become a better man, and she knew through that he'd become a better leader. He was already on alert day in and day out, so adding a child wouldn't raise anything but security. Having a child around could be beneficial to him. If he even wanted to have her around, that was._

 _Back in the den, Merle was lecturing Daryl about leaving the child be and focusing on the task at hand. They weren't at war yet, but if Daryl did things Merle's way, they would be. A war in the shadows would benefit no one, and the Governor didn't care if innocents were caught in the crossfire. See, there were sparks here long before he took over, and Daryl would not let them be set ablaze. He wouldn't retaliate directly against the Governor. Merle needed to realize that._

 _"I thought you'd be all for it," Daryl commented. "Always sayin' how important blood is."_

 _"Yeah, you and me, but not her. She has a family waitin' to take her, 'cause her blood don't give a shit. That woman's a bitch, and she didn't even try to give you a choice. I don't agree with her, not for a second, but this ain't a world for kids."_

 _"Maybe she did want to tell me, but couldn't contact me." He hopped up. "I'm gonna go talk to her. Rosita has to have her address."_

 _"No!" Merle blocked the exit. "What the hell is there to say? She already signed the baby off to someone else. She isn't gonna back down just 'cause you show up and wanna talk."_

 _"I know that, but I have to try. It's my kid, Merle. I don't want... I just wanna know she'll be taken care of. That her mom thought this through."_

 _"Daryl, she doesn't want you involved," Merle lied. "She talked to me about this. She wouldn't try to come and talk to you. She said you wouldn't understand, that you were a kid yourself, that you didn't know where to start taking care of another human being. You were just somebody to fuck, and it didn't go as planned. She said she just wanted rid of this kid, 'cause she found out too late to do anythin' else. Look, you don't need that bitch in your life, and that child can't be in ours. I'm sorry."_

 _"She—she met with you?"_

 _"Nah, it was over the phone."_

 _He frowned. "...but it's my kid too, Merle."_

 _"I know. This is for the best. You know it is."_

 _"I need to think," Daryl said. "You...handle the men. I just need to get some air." He scrambled out of the den and out the front door. He found his motorcycle and went for a drive to clear his mind._

 _Merle sighed. He had never met the woman who was carrying his niece, never heard her voice, but if his lie helped keep that girl out of their lives then so be it. Merle played the villain every day, and if being the bad guy helped Daryl and this kid out then he'd be the bad guy. If Daryl hated the mother, he would keep his distance and possibly come to realize this was for the best. So Merle would foster his hatred for her to keep that girl safe, to keep Daryl from losing her permanently. He would keep his family safe by any means necessary, and the rest who weren't family...fuck 'em._

 _– – –_

 _Daryl gazed at the sonogram, seeing the little hands and little toes, and he sighed. He didn't know what to feel these days. He was conflicted by what he knew and what he wanted. He played Yafim's story on a loop in his mind, memorizing the horror in his eyes, trying to cling to that to keep from wavering. He could not have a child. Not one that lived in his house, not one his enemies could grab and use against him. He swore to himself that those things were not meant for him. He swore to Yafim that the job would always come first._

 _Honestly, what did he know about raising a child? Absolutely nothing. He'd never even been around a child or infant all of his life. He kept his distance from people; they only ever asked questions he didn't or couldn't answer. He couldn't be responsible for an infant. He could learn how to tend to her, but there were things he'd have to teach her, have to show her, and he didn't know what or how. He couldn't raise by example. He was a criminal. How was he going to show her right from wrong when he was dealing illegal weapons and drugs? How was he supposed to be a parent when he had none to show him what a parent was? He signed away all of that when he agreed to this position. It was supposed to be simple. This wasn't supposed to happen._

 _Yet it had. He was going to have a child in this world. A little girl, a piece of him and her mother, learning and growing up with people who may or may not be kind to her. He wanted her to live. He wanted her to have a good life, but he didn't know if he could trust the strangers her mother had picked out. If what Merle said was true, that she just wanted to be rid of the child, then the people who take her in might not care either. He couldn't—would fucking not—risk his child growing up in the same environment as he and Merle had. The only bruises and cuts this kid should have are from playing, from tripping or hitting a shoulder accidentally on a door. Not from people who are supposed to be her parents._

 _Rosita said they were great people, that she'd run a thorough background check on them, and he knew her hacking skills were amazing. He knew there wasn't a chance in hell she'd fall for a false profile. Good people could easily hide horrible actions. People of power were often the darkest, the cruelest, and he didn't trust people he didn't know. He couldn't just randomly meet them to quell his fears, and hack-able information wasn't always reliable. People couldn't fit entirely in a file. There were pockets of secrets, and he couldn't trust blindly that they were clean on file and in reality. He and someone else had made a life, and it was his job to ensure she had the best chance at life. Life was crap, but he would do his best to guarantee her wasn't._

 _He lifted his head and bitterly chuckled. Of course when he made one decision, life forced another one on him. This just became fifty million times more challenging._

 _– – –_

 _Carol closed the cutesy children's book she'd just read to the baby and set it on the table beside her, placing a hand on her belly. It would be time soon. She was a few days away from her due date, and she spent most of her days reading to her. She tried her best to not get attached, but it was like asking fire not to burn. She was in love with this little girl and savored every second they spent together. It was just the two of them right now, and she hoped to elongate their time together._

 _Nine months. With Sam, that time seemed so short. She had so much support and events to look forward to. All she had to look forward to now was returning to work to find the sniper and make him pay for what he did. Somehow it didn't seem worth it. She had to lose her child to find the man who took her first child. She could easily slip away from the world, change her entire life and raise her baby in some far corner of the earth. They could be happy. They could spend their days laughing and enjoying every moment together. Carol could tell her about her older brother. She could raise her daughter herself and make unforgettable memories, heal the scars left by Sam's death._

 _However that wasn't who she was. She didn't run away from people. She didn't abandon the ones she loves. She didn't hide unless it was for her job. Being a homicide detective was who she was. Her entire life was dedicated to the NYPD. She couldn't set an example for her daughter by fleeing, by letting the sniper win and take everyone she loved away from her. She wouldn't do that. She had to find that son of a bitch, and she had to be give up this child. That was how this worked. Her sorrow and agony would be worth it in the end. To know her entire family was safe from his scope, to know he would never do to someone what he had done to her and to Lori, would be worth it._

 _She inhaled deeply. She spent the last few weeks wondering what it would be like to hold her newborn daughter. She remembered the first time she held Sam in her arms. She wouldn't forget that moment. She wished she could have that chance again with this baby, but if she held this baby, even for a second, she wouldn't be able to go through with the adoption. After all, she wasn't her daughter. She belonged to the family Carol had given her to. She wasn't Carol's. For her sake, she would never be Carol's as long as the sniper lurked the streets._

 _"I brought dinner." Michonne kicked the door shut. "It's your favorite, and I made sure nothing that makes you sick is in it."_

 _"Thanks."_

 _"Tomorrow's going to be a beautiful day. Do you want to open the windows, get some fresh air in here?"_

 _"No, I'm fine." She pushed herself up off the couch and approached the counter. "Better safe than sorry."_

 _"All right." She began to unload the food. "So, I left those case files on the table like you asked. Have any opinions to share?"_

 _"Several."_

 _"I can't wait to hear them." She pulled down two plates. "Do you want to know anything? About Caesar or Andrea? Or your apartment?"_

 _"How are they doing?"_

 _"Well. Andrea and I had lunch today. She's concerned about you. She knows how undercover work is, but she wishes she could talk to you. I think she misses you, as a friend."_

 _"I should be home shortly. If nothing goes wrong." She set a hand on her stomach and exhaled._

 _"Are you okay?" Michonne studied her face._

 _"Yes, she's just kicking."_

 _"Oh? Could I?"_

 _Carol pursed her lips but nodded. Michonne set her hands on Carol's belly, feeling the baby girl inside kick, and she smiled. It made her chest ache at the same time, knowing that moments like these should be happy ones. A life is slowly forming inside Carol. A beautiful, precious life. But once she was ready to come out, that was it. She was off to her new home, and Carol was left alone, only the stretch marks and baby weight to remember her by. She couldn't imagine how Carol felt and asking wouldn't get her anywhere, because Carol bottled things up. She tried to paint a stable, pretty picture for the world to see, but beneath it was shattered glass and decay._

 _"Sam kicked a lot too." Carol sat down on the stool._

 _"I remember." She cleared her throat. "How was your day?"_

 _"That's not what you want to ask." She rested her chin in her palm. "I'm okay, Michonne. I know what I have to do, and I know once it's over...I'll need some time. Desk duty, perhaps. I don't want to just jump back in."_

 _"I understand. I'll see to it."_

 _"I appreciate it." She smiled at her. "You're a good friend, and I don't know what I'd do without you."_

 _"You'd have Caesar pestering you and eating all of the good food."_

 _"Yep. He does enjoy doing that." She watched Michonne prepare the plates. It would be over soon. She clung to those five words. She wanted this to be over more than she wanted this to never end. While these were the best nine months of her life, they were constantly filled with anxiety and torment. Those two things went hand in hand nowadays. Joy, grief. Happiness, sorrow. Laughter, tears. The up always crashed down. Sometimes instantaneously. She hoped that would change one day. She hoped she could wake up to a world free of the sniper. She honestly wasn't sure if she would have that, but she would try her damnedest to see it. He would suffer for all he's done. God willing._

 _– – –_

 _"That is not your decision!" Rosita shouted at him. "You can't just tell him what to do! He's your brother, not a toy! This is his life! His daughter's life! You don't get a say."_

 _"I do happen to get a say when his career involves guns and drugs!" Merle shot back. "I wouldn't mind havin' the kid here if things were different, but they ain't! We're criminals! We're constantly in danger. Do you know what happened to our men? What our enemies did to 'em? Now just imagine them bein' a sweet little girl."_

 _She seethed, "She will be safe! We'd all be here to protect her, and I would make damn sure if there was even a chance of the Governor's men could grab her, she would have an escape seconds later! It will take work, but we can keep her safe."_

 _"We have enough trouble without a newborn! Can't you see that?!"_

 _Rosita was about to snap back when Daryl ran in, Merle stopped screaming at her, and they gave him their attention. He was red in the face, sweaty, and it seemed like he'd ran the entire way home. Merle stepped out to see if his bike was in the driveway, but it wasn't. He assumed it ran out of gas, so he sent one of the boys to go find it._

 _"You need some water?" Merle started for the kitchen._

 _"No." He straightened up and caught his breath. "I want to keep her."_

 _Rosita broke out into a wide smile and almost hugged him, but she knew he didn't like hugs. "That's great. I'm happy for you."_

 _Merle turned on his heel. "We just had this talk—"_

 _"I know, but I want my daughter. I can't be sure she won't get hurt with her adoptive parents. I know not all people are bad, but enough are. I want her here, and I know there's ensured danger here, but I don't care. At least I'd be here to protect her. I won't abandon her, Merle. I can't."_

 _Merle shrugged. "Fine. But the consequences are all yours."_

 _"That's fine by me." Daryl nodded and stumbled toward the kitchen to get some water._

 _Merle glared at Rosita. "You should've kept your mouth shut."_

 _"No, what I should have done is told Daryl first, not you. He slept with my friend and got her pregnant, not you. I understand your concern, but we'll do our best to keep her safe. We'll secure this place, keep only our best men informed of the girl, and it'll be fine. I've got the tech, and you've got the muscle. You're going to be an uncle, so cut this hateful shit out."_

 _Merle scoffed. "Whatever. I'm outta here."_

 _"Not so fast." She grabbed his arm and locked eyes with him. "You know what this means, Merle. He made his choice, and now you have to make yours. He can't have both."_

 _He searched her eyes and gave a nod. "We'll talk later. For now, I have to go get shitfaced and hope this was all a nightmare."_

 _"I know you're scared, but that's life." She released his arm. "This way you have a chance to be better. A better brother, a better uncle—a better man. It's a fresh start, Merle. You need that."_

 _"I do, but I ain't ever gonna be better. For people like me, there's only worse."_

 _She watched him saunter out the front door and shook her head. She knew eventually Merle would prove her right. There was a good man underneath all booze and drugs and tough guy act. He would show himself when it counted._


	28. You Didn't Suffer Alone

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

" _Gloria." Eastman pulled her aside when she entered, her son and daughter going to their usual table and waiting for her. He'd known her for years, known her husband for years. She was a good woman, a fantastic mother, and he knew she would be perfect. She was caring and patient. He would help in any way he could, but Carol needed a mother. He prayed Gloria could be that mother. "I need to talk to you."_

 _She nodded. "What is it?"_

" _Tonight, when I close. It's...important."_

" _Of course. I'll be here."_

 _He continued about his day regularly, and when closing time finally arrived, he found Gloria sitting in her usual spot. He locked the front door and joined her. He offered her coffee, and she accepted. He got to business then._

" _I have a request," he started. "It's...pretty big, and I'm willing to help out in any way I can."_

" _What is it?" She met his eyes, the seriousness there startling her._

" _There's this little girl. You may have seen her in here a few times. She's really small, red hair, raggedy clothes?" She nodded. "Well, I first saw her about two months ago. She was stealing from the store across the street, and I spoke to her the next day. She was a mess, just filthy and her hair was matted. She's practically skin and bones. I think she's living in a stack of cardboard boxes, but she keeps moving, so I don't know for sure."_

" _Oh, God."_

" _Her name's Carol. I invited her here, fed her and talked to her. She didn't tell me much, but I could tell she wanted to. She came by more and more after than, but then she stopped. I looked for her, because I was worried something happened to her." Tears rose up in his eyes. "She was bleeding and unconscious in an alley two blocks from here. I don't know how long she'd been like that. It had been raining, and she was so pale. I thought she was dead."_

 _Gloria covered her mouth with her hand. "Is she all right?"_

" _I took her to the hospital. I spoke to the police, and they were going to question her, but she was in a coma. It didn't last long. One of the nurses called me, told me she was waking up, so of course I rushed over there to see her, but she was gone. She had run away."_

" _The police don't know who did it to her? There wasn't anything they could do?"_

 _He shook his head. "The doctors said Carol might not remember. The blows to the head could have affected her memory, but the police wanted to know what happened. What he did to her..." He scoffed. "Or she, for all I know."_

" _What did he or she do to her?"_

 _He averted his eyes. "She had been assaulted. He beat her with...what they assumed was the butt of a gun."_

" _Oh, my God." She felt sick. "That poor angel."_

" _I think I know where she's staying," he began again when he calmed himself. "I'd like you to take her in, adopt her. I'll pay you and for anything she needs, but please, Gloria. I can't go on knowing she's out there all alone. I can barely sleep at night. My son is warm and tucked in and safe, but she's out there. This isn't a world where a little girl can roam the streets by herself and be okay. It just isn't."_

" _Of course I'll take her in. With Karen off to college, the house is too quiet." She'd seen Carol around here from time to time. She seemed like a sweet girl, and she always tried to lend Eastman a hand. Gloria wondered if that was one of his son's friends, but now she knew. If she could find her parents and reunite them, she would. If they were unfit, she'd do what she could for the girl. If that meant living with them, that was fine. Karen wouldn't mind, and Caesar kept out of the house until night. He was constantly off doing something he probably shouldn't. She'd still discuss it with them, but she was leaning definitely toward yes._

– – –

 _Carol frowned when the store was empty, Eastman led her in, and she stopped at the sight of Karen. Eastman gently pushed her forward, and Karen looked over and smiled widely when she saw her, and she called to someone. An older woman, possibly her mom, rose out of the booth and smiled warmly at her. There was also a boy, the brother Karen had mentioned, playing something on a phone._

" _Carol, this is my good friend, Gloria Martinez." He stopped pushing her. "Gloria, this is Carol."_

" _It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." She gestured to her children. "This is my daughter, Karen, and my son, Caesar."_

" _We've actually met." Karen leaned on the counter. "She was my lunch date on Monday. Isn't that right, Jane?"_

 _Carol paled. "What's going on here?"_

" _What's going on here is I'd like to take you home." Gloria knelt down. "I know it'll be tough for all of us to adjust, but I think it could work."_

" _Take me home?" Her brows furrowed, and she gripped the straps of her backpack. "I don't have a home. Even if I did, they didn't want me or care about me. Why would you?"_

" _Because I've always wanted to be surrounded by family."_

" _But I'm not family, not yours or anybody else's."_

" _Not yet." Karen stepped forward. "You can be. I mean, I need a sister. Have you see this boy? How can I survive knowing that's the only sibling I'll ever have?" Carol almost laughed a little. "And we'd be roomies. I'm not home much, but that's good for you. Just don't paint the walls. It ticks Mom right off."_

" _You used black paint on whites walls. It took ten layers to cover it up."_

" _I was nine. And really bored. You shouldn't have left it out." She held her hands up. "All I'm saying."_

" _Anyway, you're smaller than Karen was when she was ten, but I can adjust her old clothes until we can get you some of your own. Just so you know, I'm an amazing cook." She smiled. "We don't have any pets—"_

"— _unless you count the spiders in the corners of the ceilings," Caesar interrupted her. "The one in my room is name Bennie."_

" _Bennie had babies," Karen nodded. "I killed two of them in the shower, though."_

" _How dare you." Caesar looked up from the phone. "What did they do to you?"_

" _They were in my shower."_

" _Oh, so it's your shower? You own the shower?"_

" _Yep. When I'm showering, I do own it."_

 _He started to retort, but Gloria flashed him a look, and he shook his head, going back to his game. Gloria returned her gaze to Carol and frowned at the tears in the small child's eyes, and she searched her face._

" _Why are you doing this?" Carol whispered, her voice low, her eyes burning. "I don't understand."_

" _What don't you understand?"_

" _Your kindness." She continued to whisper. "You want to take me in and—and take care of me. I don't understand why. I'm a horrible person. I don't deserve a home or the good things you're offering."_

" _Of course you do."_

" _No. No, I don't."_

" _Do you think you deserve to live on the streets? Cold and hungry all the time? You don't deserve that. Nobody does." She shook her head. "Don't say that you deserve that, because you don't."_

" _I do!" She began to bawl. "I'm a lair and a thief! I don't deserve anything good!"_

" _What did you lie about?"_

" _My name," she stammered, gasping breathes. "Where I l—live. I l—lie all the time to people. I kn—know it's wrong, but I—I have to lie."_

 _She set her hands on Carol's shoulders. "What did you steal?"_

" _Food and stuff." She turned her head slightly, but couldn't make herself look at Eastman. "I'm sorry. I know you told m—me I could come to—to you, but I—I couldn't again. I—I—I'd al—already taken too—too much from—from you. I'm sorry." She released the straps and wiped at her eyes, her body trembling from the sobs._

 _Gloria pulled her into a hug and held onto her tightly. "Shh, it's all right."_

" _No, it's not."_

" _We'll make it all right then." She smoothed her hair down. "You stole to keep yourself alive, but not anymore, okay? We're going to take care of you, and you don't have to steal anymore. You don't have to lie anymore. All you have to do is be yourself. Will you promise me that? Will you give us a chance? Hmm? Please?"_

 _Carol shuddered and snuffled. "You'd really for—forgive me?"_

" _I would. And so would Eastman." She let Carol go._

 _Carol looked back at him, and he nodded. "Why?"_

" _People make mistakes," he replied. "And you feel guilty. I know you'll make it right someday." He ruffled her hair. "You do deserve a home and to be happy, Carol. Please, consider this. Not just for you, but for me. I need to know you're okay."_

 _She swallowed. "Okay."_

" _Are you hungry?"_

" _A little."_

" _I'll go make you something for the drive to Gloria's." He headed to the kitchen._

" _If she's getting dinner here, can I?" Caesar leaned on the table. "Please, Mom? Please?"_

 _Gloria put her hands on her hips. "We have dinner ready at home."_

 _He groaned. "But I'm hungry now."_

" _Too bad." Karen poked his forehead. "I'll buy lunch here and bring it by the school tomorrow, how's that?"_

" _I'd love you forever."_

" _You already have to."_

" _Not have to, but it helps."_

 _Gloria rolled her eyes and smirked. "You'll adjust to them."_

" _Maybe." Carol snuffled. Maybe they would realize how horrible she was and throw her out before she got a chance. Maybe they would hate her and be mean to her until she ran away. Maybe she'd cause something really, really terrible to happen and ruin their lives forever. There were a thousand maybes in the world, and she knew all of them like the back of her hand. She couldn't consider a positive outcome, because positive wasn't an option. Hope wasn't an option. All hope did was lower her guard so she could be let down. Hope was cruel, and she didn't want any of it._

 _Eastman returned with a sandwich to tide Carol over. She likely hadn't eaten all day, so it was more of an appetizer. She could stand to have more meat on her bones anyway. "Here you are."_

 _Carol took the wrapped sandwich. "Thank you."_

 _He nodded. "You're welcome."_

" _We should go. It's pretty late." Gloria nodded to the door, and Karen and Caesar strolled out to the car._

" _I'll see you later, kid." He smiled at her. "Be good."_

" _I will." She hugged him. "Thank you."_

 _He squeezed her once tightly then released her. "You have a big day ahead of you, so go home and eat and sleep, okay? We'll see each other soon."_

 _She nodded._

 _Gloria showed Carol to the car, Caesar was still on the phone in the backseat, and Karen was bugging him to fasten his seat belt. Gloria got on him, and he finally did. She told Carol to do the same, and Carol nodded, setting her backpack on the floor and holding the sandwich in her arm. She wasn't hungry. It was weird. She'd been hungry as far back as she could remember, but right now, she wasn't. Her stomach was twisted up in heavy knots, and her throat felt tight, her heart racing. She knew Eastman wouldn't put her with bad people, and she knew Karen was a good person, but she was still terrified. She didn't want to ruin their lives or her own any further. She wanted to jump out now and run back to her cardboard home and pretend this never happened._

 _She knew she couldn't, and she knew it was just her anxiety. She needed to calm down. She didn't want to freak them out. She didn't want it to turn sour, and she didn't want to be yelled at or kicked out. She knew it was a possibility, but she didn't want it to be. She wanted something good to happen for once. She wanted to be able to put faith in people and their words, but words could be lies, and people could be vicious simply because they enjoyed it. She didn't like that she was preparing for the worst. She was always preparing for the worst. That was all she knew how to prepare for. Good things, good outcomes, happiness? Those didn't exist for her. If they did before the hospital, they didn't matter or count, because of what followed. It was like the world was showing her how good things could be and how easily it could be taken away. It always took. Always._

 _Gloria showed Carol around the house while Karen set the table and Caesar got the drinks. It wasn't a huge house, but it was nice. It smelled like food and was warm. Karen and Caesar had their own rooms, there was only one bathroom, and there was a small fenced in backyard. It was cute, and the pictures of them that hung on the wall caught Carol's attention more than once. She'd never seen so many happy pictures before, and she was jealous. It was stupid, but she couldn't fight the burning in her chest at the sight of their goofy smiles and faces. It must be nice, she thought, to be surrounded by family._

" _The table's set." Karen was at the bottom of the stairs. "Since you didn't eat your sandwich, I made you a plate. Do you like spicy food?"_

" _I wouldn't know."_

 _Karen nodded. "It's pretty mild, I suppose."_

" _Why don't you let me take your bag?" Gloria held her hands out for Carol's backpack. "I'll put it in Karen's room."_

" _Speaking of," Karen said as Carol removed the backpack and handed it to Gloria, "you can have my bed tonight. I have a test to cram for anyway, so I'll be downstairs."_

" _I don't want it." She shook her head. "I'm used to sleeping on the ground anyway."_

 _Karen smirked. "You're already taking my old clothes, half of my bedroom and part ownership of my brother. I think I can let you take my bed for one night too."_

" _Are you sure?"_

" _If I wasn't, I wouldn't have offered. Now come and eat."_

 _Dinner wasn't as awkward as Gloria had thought it'd be. Caesar went on and on about school, Karen was trying to study and eat at the same time, and Carol was picking away at her food. Gloria was worried Carol didn't like it, but she had a feeling Carol might be nervous. Karen was like that too. She didn't like eating in front of other people unless family was around or friends. She used to skip lunch at school every day before she and Ana became friends. She didn't understand it, but she didn't pressure Karen. She would grow out of it, or she wouldn't._

 _Gloria and Caesar washed the dishes and put away the leftovers, Carol wanted to help out, but they had a chore chart, and Gloria would wait until Carol felt more at home to add her to it. She would let Karen help her get settled in. Karen was good at that. Caesar would drive the poor child to locking herself in her room to escape. He was a good boy, but he talked too much sometimes._

" _Here is some shampoo and conditioner." Karen set them on the bathroom counter. "You have your own toothbrush and toothpaste, so just keep them behind the mirror. We use the top shelf, Mom has the middle and Caesar has the bottom. The mouthwash is for all of us. Be warned: it burns. It feels like it's trying to burn the flesh off the inside of your mouth."_

" _Why buy it?"_

" _I don't know. We just always have." She shrugged. "I'll put your pajamas on the counter. I have go dig them out, but I'll leave them in here for you, and you know where my bedroom is."_

" _Okay."_

" _If you want, you can have some chocolate ice cream before you go to bed."_

" _Maybe."_

" _The shower is pretty self-explanatory, so I'm gonna go find my old pajamas."_

" _How old are you?" Carol questioned before Karen left. "You asked me the other day, but I don't know how old you are."_

" _I'm eighteen." She stepped out of the bathroom. "Now shower. You look like you need it."_

 _Carol lifted her eyes to the mirror. She had showered a couple days ago, but she looked like a mess again. Her hair was gross and dirty, and her clothes smelled weird. Nobody said anything, but she knew they saw it, and they would smell it. She tried to wash her clothes in the sinks of the hotels she...got into, but they took so long to dry. She did the best she could._

" _Carol?" Karen knocked on the door then cracked it and tossed the pajamas on the counter, closing the door again._

 _The pajamas were nice, even after how ever many years have passed since Karen wore these. The top was white and wasn't dingy like some of the white shirts she'd seen while trying to cloth herself, and the bottoms were cute. They had the galaxy on them._

 _She sighed and undressed, stepping into the shower and smiling a little what the fish on the bottom. They were weird feeling under her toes, but she figured they were to prevent slipping. She turned the water on, jumping back at the icy blast, and she turned it the other way and winced at the searing hot water. She turned it a bit more toward cold and sighed blissfully at the even temperature._

 _She scrubbed the street off of her body and out of her hair, and when she was dry, she scrubbed it off her teeth as well. She hung her towel to dry over the shower rod and dressed, finding the pants too big, so she pulled on the drawstring and tied it. The shirt was a size too big, but it was nice. It didn't drown her, but it didn't choke her either. They smelled good, clean, not like her other clothes._

 _She unlocked the door and opened it. Nobody was on the other side, so she sauntered downstairs, hearing Karen and Gloria talking about something she didn't understand. It school-related. It had to be._

" _Wow, those were big for you." Karen giggled at the sight of Carol. "But, hey, you look better. That's what's important."_

" _Thank you for letting me borrow them."_

" _You can have them." She clicked the end of her pen. "So, do you have anymore of those clothes like the ones you were wearing?"_

" _A couple in my backpack. Why?"_

" _Because I called dibs on burning them with fire." She tucked hair behind her ear. "If you leave them on the dresser, I'll throw them away."_

" _But those are my only clothes."_

" _We're taking you clothes shopping on Thursday," Gloria informed her. "I'm off that day. Until then you can wear Karen's old clothes."_

" _Is that really okay?" She gripped a handful of her nightshirt in both hands, biting her bottom lip._

" _It is." Gloria rose. "Do you want some ice cream? Caesar's already helped himself."_

" _I'd like some."_

" _You have to eat it at the table."_

" _That's fine." She didn't eat at many tables. She liked it, and silverware. It was easier to eat with spoons and forks and knives. She usually used her fingers, so when she saw the fork and spoon, she wanted to cry. She had a plastic spoon she'd taken from the tray the nurse had given her in the hospital, but it broke. She'd been drinking cans of cold soup and noodles with meatballs. It was gross and slimy, but it was filling._

 _Gloria handed her a bowl and spoon. "Do you want nuts or caramel?"_

" _Umm...okay." She sat down. "Caramel, I guess I'd like some of that."_

 _Gloria squeezed out caramel from the container onto the chocolate ice cream then returned it to the fridge. "You have to wash your bowl when you're done, okay?"_

 _She nodded and spooned in a bite of ice cream. She'd had some before at Eastman's restaurant. He was using her to taste test some of his new herb cheeses, and as a reward, she got ice cream. He always wanted a second opinion, and she believed he enjoyed watching her gag on the nasty concoctions. You know, like 'ha, I wasn't the only one to suffer that taste'. It had to be why his son stopped trying the cheeses. Carol didn't blame him._

 _Gloria checked in on Carol twice before bed and once when she thought Carol was asleep. Carol was clinging to the backpack with her few snacks inside, and she had taken a couple of apples from the bowl in the kitchen just in case. They wouldn't notice. She was sure they hadn't seen her take them. She didn't want to steal anymore, but she couldn't just be thrown back out onto the streets unprepared. She wouldn't take money or anything like that. Just food. Maybe canned items would be better. They wouldn't rot like apples._

 _She wanted to stop thinking like that and simply enjoy having a bed to sleep in, blankets to warm her and people to talk to, but she couldn't. She couldn't let go of her backpack. Not yet._

– – –

Carol woke up to the ringing of her cell, and she fumbled around for her phone, finding it on the floor. She cleared her throat and answered it. "Williams."

"Carol?" It was Deanna.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to see if you could join us for dinner tonight."

"Yeah, sure. What time?"

"Seven."

She nodded, like Deanna could actually see her, then remembered she couldn't. "Uh, I'll be there."

"Okay."

She hung up and checked the time. It was nine in the morning. She pushed herself up and ran a hand down her face. She had dreamed about her first night with the Gloria and her siblings. It was vivid. She could still taste of that dinner and feel the water on her skin. She could almost smell Karen's perfume.

––

 _Karen and Carol were on Karen's bed, and Karen sat behind her, brushing and braiding her hair for her church. It was the first time they'd all gone together. Karen had exams or had to work, or Gloria had to work, or Carol had some appointment. They were going as a family for the first time since they'd taken Carol in. It'd been almost a year now, and with therapy, she was doing quiet well. The therapist said her bond with Karen helped bring her out of her shell, and Carol didn't take food or sleep with her backpack anymore._

 _Caesar was on the floor, using Karen's TV to play a shooter game, and Carol kept seeing all the blind spots he left open. She kept pointing them out, and she'd gotten him killed about five times. Or so he blamed her. He refused to believe it was his fault. He told her to stop talking. She was "throwing him off". He wasn't skilled at this game. He wouldn't admit it though._

" _You're not even dressed," Karen shot back when he told Carol to shut up for the fifth time. "Mom's gonna kill you."_

 _He groaned. "Fine, but I'm playing when we get back."_

 _Carol watched him leave and pressed her thumbs against her ankles. "He doesn't like me, does he?"_

" _Caesar?"_

" _Yeah. He always glares at me, or acts like I'm doing something wrong. Like I'm unwelcome here."_

" _He doesn't dislike you. He doesn't know you. He's always been the baby of the family, so having someone his own age around is...different. He doesn't know what to make of you, but if you'd hang out with him, he'll start to know."_

" _So, I should hang out with him?"_

" _It's not torture." She laughed at Carol's tone. "He doesn't bite. He stopped when he was ten."_

" _I'm just not sure how to hang out with a boy. I mean, I've only hung out with you and Gloria."_

" _Just play that stupid game with him." She twisted the tie around the end of the braid. "It'll be fine, just don't hand him his ass too much. Let him win once then pummel him. He'll get competitive, so he'll talk to you to distract you, but just use it. Go from there."_

" _All right."_

" _Your hair's done." She rose off the bed. "I'm going to check on Mom."_

 _She nodded and set her feet on the floor. She had been here for a long time now. She had a different last name, different skin and hair and eyes, but Karen and Gloria treated her like family. She had her own bed for the first time she could remember. Her own clothes and shoes and hairbrush. She even had her own favorite cup and spot on the couch. It was really amazing here, and she wasn't worried about them kicking her out anymore. Not since Gloria introduced them all as "her kids". People got a funny look when she said it and they saw Carol, but they didn't say anything. It made her feel worth something again. If she ever felt that way before the accident._

" _Hey, Carol." Caesar tossed something at her. "C'mon, we're about to leave._

 _Carol caught what he threw at her and saw it was a cell phone. "What's this for?"_

" _It's my old phone." He entered. "Mom wanted me to give it to you. You'll probably get one on your birthday, but until then you should have one. It's still in good shape. Mom would've killed me if I damaged it. Uhh, hope you don't mind the sticker."_

 _It was a cartoon detective's shield. "It's cool. I don't."_

" _Really?"_

 _She nodded. "Do you wanna be a detective?"_

" _Sorta. I've seen a lot of it on TV—the real stuff, not that Law and Order, or CSI stuff. I do watch them too, though."_

" _You'd make a good cop." She walked over to him. "Just work on your aim."_

" _Like you're any better."_

" _Is that a challenge?"_

 _He smirked. "We come back, I'll let you play my game, see how many people you can hit. Winner gets the loser's dessert."_

" _You're on."_

" _Caesar! Carol! Come on!" Gloria called._

" _Race you."_

 _She bolted out of the room, and he was hot on her heels._

" _It sounds like I live with elephants." Gloria shook her head._

" _Welcome to the next seven years of your life." Karen giggled. "Maybe eight years."_

" _Lord give me strength."_

 _Karen giggled harder as Carol and Caesar joined them, both out of breathe, and Gloria laughed and tapped the back of Karen's head with her purse. It only made her laugh more._

– – –

Caesar rubbed his daughter's back. "That was your aunt Karen. She loved to laugh. I wish... I wish she would have had more time to laugh. I wish she could've met you." He looked up at his wife, referring to both of them.

"Me too," Andrea whispered.

"We've been here before," Keira noted. "But usually on her birthday. Is today special too?"

"Not really." He pulled her into a half hug. "I just wanted to come by today."

She wrapped her arms around her dad's neck. "I bet she misses you too, Daddy."

He smiled. "You bet?" She nodded. "C'mere." He embraced her and kissed the top of her head.

Andrea lowered herself down onto her knees, and Keira leaned back against her. Andrea kissed her cheek and held her. She noticed the tears in her husband's eyes. "Do you need a minute?"

He nodded. "I'll see you at the car. Uh, make sure the flowers aren't wilting."

Andrea rose and guided Keira to the car. It was a beautiful day, and Caesar wanted to visit their graves today. They started with the Karen, and they were going to drive out and see Rick and Sam's. They were buried in a different cemetery, so they'd stop for lunch before they made the trip. It wasn't a long drive, but Andrea was eating for two, and Keira got grouchy when she was hungry. She hadn't had much breakfast, and a pit-stop was necessary.

Caesar adjusted the flower they'd placed at her headstone and sat down on the sun-warmed grass. He crossed his legs and cleared his throat, but his eyes still burned from the unshed tears, his nose was running, and he felt a pit hollowing inside his chest. He exhaled shakily and averted his gaze to the other headstones.

"Pretty empty here today," he mumbled. "Wonder why."

There was no wind today, nor were there any clouds in the sky. It was a good day for walking or jogging. Spring was upon them for sure, and with spring came a couple of birthdays. He had to get gifts and sign some cards in a couple of weeks for Michonne's boy, Andre. He wasn't really a boy anymore. He was a man. He didn't know what to get him. Maybe cover his rent or something. Or not. He couldn't cover his own rent this month. Well, he could, but... Shit.

He knew he was distracting himself, and he was failing, because he'd already chosen a gift. By him, he meant Andrea. She had it picked out a couple nights ago while they were out, and they'd go it buy once Michonne assured them he didn't already have it, or she hadn't already bought it for him herself. She likely got the kid a car. He lived with her now, helped her with her bills, even though she didn't need it. He had a full ride to college, but he liked working and needed extra cash. He was a good young man. Sam would have been like him. Not aiming to become a part of CSU, but close.

He chuckled bitterly. "I can't think about it. All this time, I just can't. It's blocked. It's my head, but it's fucking locked up, and I can't—" He swallowed when his voice broke, and he looked at her headstone. "I know it was my fault. I told Carol we should tell you. Shit, I made her be the one to tell you so I wouldn't get in trouble for sneaking out of the house while I was grounded."

His shoulders shook. "I'm so sorry. I should've just let it be. It wasn't my business. Mom always told me to mind my own business. I didn't. I never could. I was a stupid little kid, trying to be...like a cop from TV. It doesn't work out like that." He buried his face in his hand. "I should've just let it go."

The last thing he said to her was "Be careful". She didn't know he knew, or had seen, but he did. He knew what she was walking into, and he did nothing to protect her. He was the man of the house, but he did nothing. He sent Carol to tell her, and he sent Karen to handle it. He didn't do shit, and they paid for it. It was his fault. He dragged Carol out that day, because he was bored, and Mom worked a double that night. He knew she wouldn't catch him. They had to hang out in a shady part of town, because he didn't want of Mom's friends to see him out. If he hadn't done that, they wouldn't have seen, and Karen would be alive. Mom wouldn't have had to bury her child. No parent should have to bury their child, and both his mother and his sister have.

"Fuck." He dug his hands into his hair and shuddered, tears streaming down his face. "We said we'd protect each other. When we took in Carol and she was a mess, we said we'd keep each other safe. We didn't keep you safe. We didn't protect you. We got you killed. We got you..." He trailed off, gasping in air and snuffling. "I couldn't even bring you justice. Carol did that. She...she did it all—I did nothing. Fucking nothing, and you were my sister. Christ."

He felt arm wrap around his shoulders, and Andrea buried her face in his neck. "I couldn't save her or avenge her. All I did was let her down." His voice was deep, and the words scratched his throat. "I put her in danger, and—"

She held him tighter. "And?" she murmured by his ear. "Tell me."

"She died that day, and I was playing video games. I was having fun, and...she was being beaten to death. They tortured her, and I—was—playing—video—games." His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. "She was my big sister, and she was...invincible. She could do anything—and she did. She was the good one, the smart one. She didn't deserve to die, not like that, not like she was—was trash. Like nobody would miss her."

Andrea's entire body vibrated from his sobs. She closed her eyes and comforted him the only way she could. "Tell me everything, Caesar."

"She was strong. I remember Mom saying it all the time, but when she needed to be strong the most, she wasn't strong enough. She wasn't... God, how could that have happened? I don't understand. It was fucking daylight, and nobody saw anything. Nobody tried to help her." That scratching became nails, and it felt like his throat should be bleeding. He wasn't sure Andrea could understand him, because he couldn't understand himself. "She was the best person I knew, and not one person...not one of those assholes who was there stopped or felt guilty. God didn't send anybody to save her."

Andrea could hear the resentment in his words. It'd always been there, but it was clear now. He harbored so much loathing for the men who killed his sister, for God for not doing anything to save her, for himself for not backing her up or being there to protect her. In his mind, he was as guilty as those cops. "Caesar."

"It should have been me," he whispered. "It was my mistake. She shouldn't have paid for it."

"Do you hate her?"

"No. No, I couldn't hate Karen."

"I wasn't talking about Karen. I was talking about Keira."

"What?" He looked at her. "Of course I don't hate our daughter! I love her! Why the hell would you ask me that?!"

"If it had been you, Keira wouldn't exist. Our baby wouldn't exist. So, since you hate yourself for not being there to be killed, you hate Keira and the baby too. They're pieces of you, after all, and you're wishing them away—wishing them _dead_."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"There's no other way to mean it. You can't wish yourself away without doing the same to them." She lifted her face and met his eyes. "You hate yourself, because you couldn't do anything? You were a little boy. You were trying to be brave, like the men you idolized on TV. You were doing the right thing, the thing that makes me love you, makes me proud of you."

"I was being stupid."

"If you hadn't told her, if Carol hadn't gotten them arrested, do you think your life would be better? They could have increased their violence, and you or Karen or Carol or some other innocent bystander would have been killed. More than just one, and you'd have to wonder if every case—every dead body—that crossed your desk was theirs. You'd regret not doing something, because you would feel their blood on your hands. Don't say you wouldn't. I know you would."

He shook his head.

"You blame God? If God had sent someone to save her, Carol wouldn't have stepped up. She wouldn't have become the determined person we know. She wouldn't have become a cop and met Rick and had Sam. She wouldn't have met Daryl and had Sophia. She wouldn't be your partner. Who even knows if you'd be such good friends." She searched his eyes. "And you wouldn't be with me. If someone would have saved Karen, she might be paralyzed and need constant care. You would step up so Gloria wouldn't strain herself. You wouldn't have become a cop, and we wouldn't have met. Our daughter wouldn't be here, and our unborn child wouldn't be growing."

"He didn't have to let her die like that," he hissed.

"God can't always be kind, Caesar. Karen suffered horribly in her last moments, but she's at peace now and forever. She changed you and Carol. She was born to guide you and Carol to a certain point, and God had to take her home."

"Why? Why did He have to?"

"I couldn't say, but everything happens for a reason. Karen was an amazing woman from the stories I've heard, and people on your street have looked out for each other ever since that day. It raised awareness. I know it doesn't justify it. It never could." She stroked his cheek. "Whatever pain Karen felt is long over. The pain you feel should be too. The blame is not yours. You two were children, and Karen didn't have to listen to Carol, but she did. She made that choice. She wanted to help, and so she tried. She followed her beliefs and did what she felt was right, just like you. Those assholes who murdered her, they're paying for it and then they'll pay for it some more. They're the ones who decided to kill her, who decided that greed was more important than someone's life. It's not you."

"...'the stories you've heard'." He sniffed. "They shouldn't be stories. There shouldn't be a grave for her. Not yet. She should be old and gray-haired with a partner and their kids. She never had a chance."

"You came out here to let this out, but you're not. You've been holding this in since you were thirteen. That's thirty-three years, Caesar. No one should be angry for that long."

"I know you're right," he stated, "but I can't hear it."

"I know." She smiled a little. "We'll work through this." She wiped at his tears.

He exhaled. "How do we work through this?"

"With patience and booze." He almost laughed. "And a therapist. You need to talk to someone who can offer you an opinion I can't. I love you, and I want you to be okay. I won't challenge you—much—or piss you off. They will, and you'll find the real reason you're angry."

"I stopped believing in God when Sam died," he confessed. "I couldn't tell my mother. I was raised in the church, and she'd have died if she knew. I just couldn't believe in Him, but I find myself thinking all the time how grateful I am God led me to you."

She beamed at him. "Well, He sent me to that disgusting nightclub with my sister where He knew we'd meet. I know it doesn't...do much to sooth you, but you did find some happiness after Karen. It wasn't all guilt and anger." She ran her fingers through the hairs on the back of his neck. "She'd be grateful for that."

He closed his eyes, unable to smile back her, though he wanted to. "I'm tired."

"I'm not surprised." She rested her forehead against his. "C'mon, let's go see our godson."

"He probably already knows he's gonna be a brother again." Keira, who got bored waiting in the car, said, "Grandma says that's the only downside to trying to surprise angels—they already know everything."

Andrea smiled a little. "Yeah, that's true, but we'll still tell him." She rubbed Caesar's shoulder. "I'll drive."

He watched his wife and daughter for a moment, heaved a sigh and ran his hands down his face. He wasn't sure about his faith, but he knew it was time to let go. He had a beautiful daughter and an unborn child, a wife, a sister, nieces, a mother. He had so many things in his live that he loved and loved him. He couldn't wish it was him. Andrea was right. All of these feelings and wishes weren't just him. If he weren't in the picture, neither were Kiera and his unborn child. He would never have those thoughts, never try to see a world without them. They were too precious to him for him to think like that.

– – –

Carol dressed for the dinner with the Monroes. She hadn't brought anything for a "family" dinner, but what she had would suffice. It had to. She didn't enjoy clothss shopping, and she'd rather not have to find a new outfit just for tonight. Her jeans and blue blouse would do fine anyway. She was comfortable in them, and it was easier to flee awkward situations in pants.

She adjusted her watch, glancing at herself in the mirror, and she exhaled. She dreaded dinner tonight with Deanna and Reg and their sons. She didn't want to see them. She didn't want to hear them or sit down at their dinner table and eat with them. They all expected someone she wasn't, and she couldn't even pretend to be that girl. Her mind was blank. The damage done to her on the streets scarred her to this day, but scars were scars, and she had plenty of them. She wore the scar of Sam left every day, and she learned to find strength from it. Small pieces, mostly anguish and remorse, but small pockets of strength were what she used to make it through most days. That's how she knew she'd make it through this dinner.

She touched her necklace and exhaled. Okay. It was time to head out. It was one dinner, a final goodbye. She didn't want to be cruel, but their worlds were vastly diverse, and she wouldn't subject them to the devastating details of her life. Once they knew, there was no going back, and she couldn't handle any more looks of pity. It was her past, and she accepted it. She had a future to look forward to, someone...important to speak with, and she had her daughters and unborn niece or nephew. She couldn't fit the Monroes in her life, not after changing so much. The girl they want to see in her was long buried, and she couldn't return to her. She wouldn't. She was proud of who she was, what she'd accomplished, and while it ached and insomnia was too good a friend, it was who she was. She wouldn't compromise herself for anyone. She would apologize and thank them, but that was all. There wouldn't be a happy ending here. Rarely were there happy endings.

––

It was seven-ten when Carol arrived at the Monroe's home. She was invited in by Reg and led to the kitchen where Deanna and one of her sons were. Carol wasn't sure which son was beside Deanna, but given his features, she would assume Spencer. He had been older than her.

"Spence." Reg set a hand on his shoulder.

He turned around and looked over Carol. "That's her?" he whispered.

He nodded. "Hard to forget those eyes."

Spencer held his hand out to her. "Spencer Monroe."

Carol shook it out of habit. "Carol Williams. It's nice to meet you."

He chuckled, and it was humorless. "Yeah, same to you."

She released his hand. "Expecting a different reaction?"

"To be honest, yes." His smile was warm but bittersweet. "Mom told me you didn't remember us, but I'd hoped...maybe being back would jog your memory."

She shook her head. "Whatever life I had here is gone from my memory."

He nodded and lowered his eyes.

Deanna cleared her throat. "Dinner's about ready. The dining room's all set up, so why don't you all go have a seat."

"I'll go get Aiden." Reg departed from the room, but not before Carol saw the grim look on his face.

"The table's already set," Spencer commented. "Would you like a drink?"

"Water, please."

"Are you sure? I brought wine, and Dad has something stronger around here, if you'd prefer that."

"Just water."

"Okay." He pulled down a glass and filled with ice water. "I'll show you to the dining room."

She accepted the glass of water and followed him down the hall to the dining room. She spotted Reg and who could only be Aiden in what appeared to be his old bedroom on the way, but she said nothing to draw either of their attention. She had a feeling Aiden had a few words for her. She could see the tension in the muscles in his back through this shirt as he gripped the window frame, and she wondered how far into dinner they'd get before he let it go.

Spencer motioned for her to sit by the end beside him, and she set her cup down, sitting. Most of the side dishes and rolls were already laid out on the table, and it smelled wonderful. She knew if she could remember, the scent of this room and of the food would cause her memories to come rushing back. However it wasn't that simple, and she didn't mind forgetting. It was simpler for her to forget. Inconsiderate and simpler. When she left their home, her heart wouldn't choke on the anguish of all these missed years, her body wouldn't shake at the sorrow in their eyes that matched her own. She would only be walking away, returning to her home, to her life. To her daughters. She wouldn't be leaving one home for another. It wasn't right, but that's what the facts were. A dinner with strangers in her eyes; a dinner with family in theirs. That wouldn't change no matter what the year was. There were things they had to know to be considered family, and she couldn't share them. It was her past, and she wanted to shelter them from it. It must be the mother in her.

Deanna and Reg joined them, Reg gave an excuse for why Aiden was taking so long, and Deanna squeezed Carol's shoulder as she found her chair. Carol sipped her water, the tension in the room thicken as Aiden appeared and sat across from Carol. Deanna insisted they say grace, Carol took the hand of Spencer and Reg, feeling Aiden's gaze bore into her. She closed her eyes and listened to Deanna thank God for the meal, for returning their lost daughter, and Carol's throat tightened. It was going to be quite a long night after all.

The food was passed around, Carol didn't help herself to much, despite the three of them insisting. She didn't have much of an appetite. She hadn't since she came to this home. She didn't know why that was, but she hoped it passed. If she went home and ate as little as she did during her stay, Andrea would be on her like white on rice. So would Caesar and Sophia and Mika and Rosita. Michonne already checked in on her to see how much she'd eaten. It was silly, and she loved them for it. She didn't want to worry them any more than she already had, so any day her appetite wanted to return was fine with her. As long as it was sooner.

"So." Reg peered at Carol from across the table. "Why don't you tell us a little about your work? It must be interesting."

Carol swallowed roast. "About my work?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, tell us," Aiden prodded. "I'm sure it's fascinating." His spoke with a sneer, his eyes taunting her, and he hadn't touched his food. He kept staring at her. Glaring was more accurate, and she wondered when he was going to snap. He hadn't reached the boiling over limit just yet, but it was nearing. She could tell.

"It's not like what you see on TV. It's a lot more challenging, and not all cases are solved. It's difficult to work a case and have the killer slip away. I try my best to lower the number of cold cases, but in the end it can't be helped. There's only so much we can do." She shifted her gaze from one Monroe to the next. "I enjoy being a detective. It's fulfilling, and concurrently it's devastating. Various victims cross my path, and I can't imagine how brutal and mortifying their last hours were. It breaks my heart to think about it."

Deanna nodded. "I can't imagine being in your line of work. I hope it doesn't weigh too much on you."

"It does, but I try not to let it stop me. I do my job to the best of my ability, and I don't stop unless I have no choice."

"How admirable." Spencer smiled. "It's good to know someone like you is out there."

"Yeah, it's dandy," Aiden muttered.

Deanna scolded her youngest son before shifting a more pleasant and slightly apologetic gaze to Carol. "Have you ever worked a case that's stayed with you?"

"Yes, several." She drank water, avoiding eyes as she did. "I'd rather not discuss them."

"Well, why don't we talk about something else then?" Reg met the eyes of his oldest son. "Why don't you tell us how you've been?"

Carol was grateful to have someone else be the center of attention. She could never fully handle all eyes on her. She didn't enjoy it. She knew there were times when she had to be the focus, when she had to take charge and set the course of an investigation or an interrogation, but this wasn't either. During dinners Carol preferred to listen as opposed to speak. There were many intriguing tells and habits to be learned by listening, and Carol had no fond stories to tell. If they were to ask about Sophia, she had no reply. She hadn't spent a day with Sophia as her mother. She hadn't seen her first steps, heard her first word, been with her on the first day of school. She just was trying to get through the day while Sophia did all of those things and more.

She could only discuss firsts that she had with Sam, but she hadn't told them about her son. She would prefer to not talk about him. They would wonder why she hadn't mentioned him before. They would question, and she didn't want that. The answers would leave a bitter taste in their mouths and a weight on their chests. It wasn't dinner conversation. It was barely a conversation. She spat it at Daryl, and anyone else close to her had lived through it. It made life smoother in its own way. She didn't have the strength to retell and retell and retell the story, to view their sympathetic faces and feel their sorrow and pity rush at her in waves.

She recalled informing Daryl of Sam and Rick's fate, how when he looked at her it wasn't with either of those things. It was as though he'd gotten another bit of information on her, and he wanted to aid her. He wanted to stand beside her and put the man who'd taken the shot down. She didn't realize how appreciative she was of that until just now. It was refreshing to think back and know at least one of the few people she told about Sam chose to stand by her and find the sniper, not hold her and drown her with sympathy and gentle words. Daryl's reaction was rare, and she was glad for it.

He was a good man, a good person, and he showed that to her from the moment they met. Well, kidnapping her aside, he showed it from the moment they met. He kept his word. She wasn't harmed by him, and they survived the sniper together. They survived the Governor together. They had been beaten and starved and endured mental torment; he'd be left to die in an alley, and she'd been shot twice. She wasn't positive how in hell they managed to continue drawing breaths, but it was invigorating. She hadn't had someone outside family to rely on in far too long. Well, no that was a lie. To say Daryl was outside her family was a lie. He was family. He was the father of her daughter, and he had comforted her in ways he couldn't know.

"What's with that smirk?" Aiden barked at the woman across from him. "Enjoying the discussion?"

Carol lifted her eyes. "Very much so."

"I'm sure."

"Aiden, please," Deanna pleaded. "Not tonight."

"No, let him speak. There's no reason why he shouldn't." Carol offered her a slight smile before locking her gaze on the man. "What's bothering you? And don't hold back. I assure you I can take it."

He scoffed. "Oh, I bet you can."

She moistened her lips. "You're awfully twitchy. I don't think it's from substance abuse." She pointed to his hands. "I can tell you've had all your fingers have been broke at some point, so I can presume you've been severely beaten. From how you can't be still, it was more than once."

His sneer only worsened the more she spoke. "Can you tell that?"

"Yes, just as I can tell it was likely in prison when you were beaten. You have that look in your eye, and I know it well. How many years did you serve? Four? Six?"

"You just know it all, don't you?" he hissed. "Yeah, I went to prison for a while. Yeah, I was beaten a few times, both hands and all my fingers broken. A couple ribs and my arm too. Wanna know why? Or can you guess that too?"

Deanna and Reg both sighed, a sound of regret and anguish, and Carol pieced it to slowly together. The way Deanna didn't touch much of her wine, the way Reg kept rubbing the back of his neck. How they both kept an eye on Aiden as if he were a fragile little bird. Meanwhile Spencer kept an eye on both of his parents, the watchful owl flying above as hunters neared the trio of deer. Carol wasn't sure yet if she was the hunter nearing them or if the hunter was memories of the past. She was sure it would revealed to her.

"You were kidnapped, taken out of your bed and dragged to a whole new city. You were on the streets and starving and lonely." His words were like scoffs, dripping with resentment and ire, and she could feel it seeping from his body like a crack in a dam. It would burst soon, the pressure of the water far too great. "Poor little Carol. Small and cold and all alone. How long were you on the streets? A year? Two?"

"A little under or possible over a year. I can't be sure; my memory is hazy."

His chuckle was a humorless and bitter jeer that caught in his throat. "Poor you. I should feel bad, give you all the pity and warmth in the world, because you're the victim. You're the only victim they see." He shook his head. "Well, news flash, Carol Williams—you didn't suffer alone. No, while you were out in the cold, things went to shit here."

"Aiden, please," Reg begged. "Don't do this."

"Why? Let's be real here, guys. We're not some happy fucking family. We don't have monthly dinners like this. We don't enjoy wine and share stories and laugh! We don't do any of this shit." He lifted up a small plate for bread rolls. "She just bought this. For you. She wanted to impress her lost little girl." He dropped it and it shattered on the wood floor, Deanna closed her eyes, and Aiden continued. "It's always been about you. For as long as I can remember. "Carol this" and "Carol that". "Carol needs a new backpack", "Carol wants to be read a nighttime story", "Go tuck in Carol". "Kiss Carol goodnight". "Turn on the nightlight for Carol".

"I thought the baby of the family was the one parents clung onto, but not in our house. It was Carol, the adopted child, and I'm not complaining about that part. I don't care what blood you have, and I don't even care that you monopolized our parents' time. I liked the freedom to breathe." He held a finger up and leaned over the table toward Carol. "However when you got kidnapped and after years passed, nothing changed. It was still all about Carol. After the cops had given up, after the private investigator they hired came up with nothing, after they ran us practically dry—all about Carol. I didn't mind. I wanted my big sister found too. Who wouldn't? This world is littered with trash who would use you as a prostitute or rape you or beat you or just straight up kill you. I wanted you brought home, safe and sound."

"Wanted? What changed?" Carol studied him.

"It'd been five years. I was graduating from middle school, and it wasn't a major deal, but it would have been nice if they'd showed up. No one came. Spencer wasn't even there, and the son of a bitch could drive. I came home, and it was like I didn't exist. Nobody would even talk to me, and I didn't know why." He swallowed. "Then I found out Dad had gotten a lead from his retired cop friend. A little girl had been found wandering the park in Indiana. She was pale, small and also a redhead. Dad drove through the night to make it to the police station she'd been taken to for questioning. It was always heavy on the heart to see them raise their hopes only for it to turn out to be the wrong girl— _again_. Mom always perked up when someone had a tip on a little girl. She even got out of bed, and for a second—before that tip was uncovered and shown to be either a lie or the wrong girl—she was back to normal. She smiled and made breakfast and kiss us goodbye for school. She was our mom again, however by the time we got home, she was curled up in bed, crying again, and the only thing she kissed was another bottle of wine.

"As for Dad. Well, sometimes he didn't even come home. He'd call to let us know it was a bust then he'd stay away for days. He never told us what he was doing, but we knew the business was going to shit. That his partner had taken over, and luckily Spence here wanted to follow in Dad's footsteps so he managed to save our asses from poverty. Barely seventeen and taking care of a household of four. He could have started when he was fourteen or fifteen, but only he knows." He glanced at his father and shook his head. "Well, him and Dad, if he wasn't too distracted running out on us all the damn time."

Carol swallowed hard. "It must have been rough."

"Rough is putting it lightly. Spencer had to drop out of school to take care of us! He was a junior in high school, and he only had a month or two until summer, but Mom was a wreck all the time, and Dad was nonexistent. We had to eat, had to pay our bills, and I couldn't work. I was too young. He busted his ass to afford clothes, the bills, food, and he had to back to get his GED. All the while, Mom and Dad weren't even trying. They were our parents and they just broke down; one drunk and the other gone. It was their job to take care of us no matter what, but the minute you were taken, it's like they forgot we were even alive.

"And I do understand mental illness played a factor, but they could've gotten help. They could have tried just a smidgen harder than they did, but no. No, no, no, no, no. It was all about Carol, all about them, and we were just two little kids roaming the empty house." He clenched his jaw. "I tried to make them see us. I tried it the right way, passing all of my classes and being a good kid. When that didn't work, I broke into the neighbor's house when they were on vacation and stole their China. Mom and her were friends, and Mom commented on the China a lot, so I put it in Mom's room. She didn't even notice. So I went back and stole their home computer. I put that in Dad's office. Of course, he was gone, so that didn't do much."

Reg was discomforted as his son spoke, and he turned his head away from Carol and Spencer in shame. He hated himself for how he acted the years following Carol's abduction. He would give anything to go back and redo that chuck of his life. Life didn't work that way, and his mistakes left scars on his children. All of them, and he would _never_ forgive himself for that.

"The more I stole, the bolder I got. I began to escalate in my crimes, and eventually got in over my head. I got arrested, and they tried me as an adult. I was a couple months shy of my eighteen birthday anyway." He brushed invisible flakes off the table. "And you guessed what happened to me. I went to prison, got my ass handed to me my entire sentence, and you'd think I learned my lesson. Nope. When I was twenty-two, I went back for round two. 'Course about a year into my sentence, Mom and Dad visited me. Carol's still missing, Spencer has the business, and they're on "back on track". They apologize and bawl their eyes out."

His mouth twisted to the side in a crude manner, his eyes darkening with fury, and he shook his head. "It was too late for them to come to me and apologize. I hated them. I wouldn't forgive them for what they did to Spencer, and what they let happen to you, and how they let our life fall to fucking pieces. I still don't know if I forgive them for it." He inhaled and met Carol's eyes. "I do know that after twenty some years later, I finally got the call. Carol just came to see us, and she's coming back for dinner. Come to the house and meet your sister. A happy ending, right?"

"I don't believe in happy endings," she replied.

"Good. That's smart, because there is no happy ending here. You live in another state with a new life. You had a home. You went to college. You're a homicide detective. Early this year you saved a pregnant girl from a crazy cop then you went on to save a little girl and her father while you were kidnapped with them. You were shot taking out a mass murderer, and here you are today at our dining table." He tilted his head side to side. "Carol A. Williams, living the life she'd been dreaming about since she was nine years old. A hero to the people. Practically a saint."

"I'm not saint," she remarked. "Nor am I a hero. I'm just doing the best I can."

"Don't be so modest."

"I'm not. I have a great team of people who assisted me in finding both girls and the mass murderer. Everything I do isn't simply me doing them alone." She rested her hands in her lap. "I am sorry for the hardships you suffered following my kidnapping. I can't change facts, but I can tell you the man who kidnapped me is behind bars. I appreciate all you've done for me, and if you ever need me, just call. If you'll excuse me, I think it'd be best I leave now."

"After all this time, you're just gonna up and leave?" he shot out of his seat. "Who do you think you are?"

"I'm trying to resolve this peacefully is all."

"Peace doesn't exist. You live long enough, you find that out." He threw his cloth napkin on his plate. "I'm out of here, but thanks for finally calling us up after thirty-seven years." He bolted out of the dining room.

The slam of the front door reverberated through the house, the dining room was still, and no one could look at anyone. The nicely prepared meal grew lukewarm as the silence engulfed the room. Everything crumbed to pieces following the events her kidnapping, and it made sense. After all it only took one missing piece to destroy puzzle.


	29. Cruel Temptations

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

I am so sorry for the delay. I hope everybody's great and smiling. I know I've missed writing for you angels. Again, sorry for the delay.

––

Silence rang out in the dining room, Deanna's eyes to glued to her plate, Reg had left to chase after his youngest, and Spencer released another soft sigh. Carol wasn't sure what to say or how to get pass this moment. She knew they had no expectations from her, so when she rose from her seat and departed from the room, no one really protested.

She hovered in the hall between the kitchen and the living room, seeing the front door ajar, and she exhaled, leaning against the wall and inhaling deeply. She hadn't expected this when she was invited to dinner. She didn't know what she'd feel or think or want from this. She only agreed for their sake, after all. Their sake...

Spencer took the space in front of her and offered her a weak yet brotherly smile, which she returned, an odd feeling settling in her chest as this sisterly smile was normally aimed at Caesar. He tilted his head to the side, and she noticed he was quiet...dashing, perhaps was the word. Like a male Cinderella, desperate to cling to hope that he could will things better and smile through the cruelty life had to offer. At least one of them could stagger on.

"Well, it's awkward as all hell," he announced brightly, almost as if he expected this outcome. "I doubt you're hungry, so let me take you out."

"Take me out?" She arched a brow, amused by him.

"Yes. I know a bar not to far from here with decent music and people. It has... Well, an atmosphere—not a great one, so don't get your hopes up—but it has atmosphere." She laughed now and ducked her head. "Least I can do since our pissy brother stormed out. We can catch up, and there's booze involved."

She opened her mouth to object when he pushed off the wall and nudged her arm. She continued to dissuade him, "I'm not much of a drinker, to be honest."

"Well, you may have a different last name, but you are a Monroe, and we're drinkers." He smirked. "First one's on me, and if you hate the company and the slight atmosphere, I'll bring you back and we can part ways and never talk about it again, all right?" He searched her eyes. "Just...give it a chance."

She had heard _me_ instead of _it_ , seeing the concern of an older brother in his eyes. He wanted to know what had become of his little sister over the years. He wanted to know about her time on the streets, her ups and downs, her likes and dislikes, what made her tick, what made her who she was. He wanted to hear all about her and her new life. He wanted all the gory details she wasn't sure she could part with. There were far too many to discuss in one evening alone, and to be honest retreating to the safety of her hotel room was so tempting. Twenty steps to the left and it was over. Twenty steps.

But there was a glint in his eyes that begged her to take those twenty steps with him, to tell her about her prom night, about her graduations and her first "love". She knew it couldn't be avoided, not without hurting him—hurting them—more than she already had. Aiden had thrown down, but Carol had pushed him to that point with her icy mask. She couldn't simply walk out and have that be it, could she? They wouldn't let her. This nagging ache in her chest wouldn't let her, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out why.

She had a mother. She had a brother. She had a sister-in-law and a niece. She had a daughter. She had all of the things she needed in life, and she was content. She didn't long to enlarge her family. She couldn't stand to try and mesh her two worlds together. They were like water and oil, and it made her dizzy to try and picture Caesar and Spencer laughing at stupid jokes over a bowl of eggnog while Andrea and Deanna looked over pictures of Carol as a girl. She couldn't see Reg starting a fire while her little girl begging to lend him a hand, and she didn't see Aiden grasping Mika up in his arms and laughing with her as he pestered her to make a snowman out in the yard. She didn't see herself wrapped in a blanket with Keira, sipping hot coco and watching old Christmas reruns and laughing at their favorite parts, the room aglow with the lights, the tree, the gifts, the many scents of the holiday surrounding them.

Yet so easily didn't shifted to couldn't—wouldn't—refused to. She had her family slots filled up and others blackened out. She kept people at a distance to protect them and herself. If she allowed herself to let the Monroes enter and be in her life, she was opening herself up to the love and affection and joy that they could surely bring, to the flood of stories and jokes from a life she didn't recall. They would welcome her daughter in with open arms and perhaps even Daryl, definitely Mika, her brother, his wife and children. The more the merrier, she suspected. They wanted her life now to blend with theirs, and she knew it might work. It might be bumpy and awkward with a few fights between her and Aiden tossed here and there, but it might work out. Laughs, smiles, good memories, a home away from home. Somewhere to send Sophia during the summers, somewhere to head on Christmas and Thanksgivings that wasn't Andrea's or Gloria's, wasn't take-out.

On the other hand it might be an unmitigated disaster. If the truth behind her refusal to drink alcohol became known, it might open a world of regret and self-destruction and self-loathing, as her kidnapping had. If they saw the sorrow in her eyes when discussing her life as a kid, they might discover the truth behind her childhood, behind Karen, and the route would be the same. They would blame themselves and wish to save her from a past which scarred her to the core but she loved. She was the woman she was today because of her childhood, and she didn't want them to wish it away or blame themselves for the tragedies she and her family had faced. They shaped her, made her stronger, better, and yes, she would love to undo a lot of horrors, but certain things—certain people—wouldn't exist without those horrors, and she would _never_ wish them away. She couldn't bear to. And because of that, they'd fight. Not intentionally, not to hurt her or their newly formed relationship, but it would happen. Someone who step too far, and it would truly be the end. She couldn't bear for that to happen. To lose her to time was an accident, but to lose her due to an unchecked comment? They may not recover from that at all. They scarcely recovered from her kidnapping.

She searched those deep, pleading brown orbs that reflected his failure as a big brother to protect his little sister, that told her he wanted a relationship, wanted to be friends at least. They told her all of the things Caesar's eyes told her, only each items was filled to the brim with pain and panic. She didn't have to agree to anything. She was a grown woman, and she had no reason to stay, to accept his offer, to be kind. That was likely what he was thinking right now. Her thoughts weren't so easily deciphered, but she knew if she let things end here, after Aiden's outbursts, after her coldness, she wouldn't forgive herself. She was raised to have manners, and with this knot in her chest the size of the moon and growing, she knew she couldn't protect herself from this part of her past. She honestly wasn't so sure she wanted to after tonight. Maybe exposing a little piece of herself to someone who still, after all this time, viewed himself as her big brother wasn't the end of the world.

"It's on me," Carol replied. "It's the least I can do."

"You don't have—"

"I do." She offered him a smile for cutting him off and stepped toward the living room. "Who's driving?"

"I am." He swiped his keys from the table by the door and let her to his car with a hopeful smile curled to the left of his mouth.

The bar with the slight atmosphere wasn't too terrible. It reminded Carol of one she occupied during the two worst and blurry years of her life. The music wasn't too bad as Spencer had aforementioned, it smelled better than the one she used to drown in, and the lightening was an improvement. That and the company might save this evening from being...well, awkward was putting it lightly. She only had Aiden—and herself—to blame. Oh, and that pesky thirty-some gap and her kidnapper. She had that fucker to blame too.

Spencer had let her buy the first drink surprisingly, and he picked a booth in the back for them to settled down to talk in. Carol hadn't pegged him as a whiskey man, but she barely knew the guy seated across from her. Her detective instinct was off tonight, hopefully only for tonight. She couldn't afford for her judgment to waver, nor could she linger on _her_ preference. It was easier that way.

Carol rested her hands on the table and searched his eyes. "So...how's...life?"

He chuckled and kept the smile that came with it. "It's been...one hell of a ride."

"Oh, yeah?"

He nodded and dug out his wallet, flicking through it and finding what he was looking for. He freed it from its protective plastic cover and held it out to her. Grasping it, she discovered it was a picture. "That's my little girl," he answered. "She's a bit bigger now. Twelve years old and a handful." He ran a hand through his loose curls and chuckled. "I can barely keep up."

"She's beautiful." Carol could see Spencer shining in the girl's eyes and smile and cheeks, proudly showing off the puppy in her arms. She looked happy and grateful, and Carol could sense he was an overprotective, worrywart of a father but a damn good one. She handed the picture back to him.

"She wasn't intentional," he confessed, sliding the picture back. "I didn't want kids, not after..."

Carol nodded, assuring him he didn't have to finish that sentence for her to know.

"But...she happened, and it was the worst and best news of my life." Sorrow shimmered in his eyes, and Carol noted he didn't have a wedding ring on. "Her mom...died in childbirth. We weren't married, but we'd been together...forever. We never talked about it, even after we found out we were having a child. We just didn't consider it."

"I'm so sorry." She grasped his hand.

"It's been twelve years," he remarked. "I miss her, but I see glimpses of her in Leslie all the time. I tell her, and her eyes light up like she's won the jackpot." He chuckled in memory. "She likes Ali a lot, especially since Ali doesn't try to replace her mom. She's content to play second fiddle in that department."

"Ali?" Carol cocked her head to the side as he downed the last of his whiskey.

"My fiancée," he replied. "Sorry. I forgot to mention her."

"Wow, I can barely make a commitment to a coffee brand, and you have a fiancée?" He chuckled again. "She must make you happy," Carol commented, seeing the earlier sorrow gone without a trace. "Good for you."

"Thank you." He cleared his throat. "Not a fan of whiskey?"

She smiled thinly. "Not really."

"What would you like then?"

"I'm fine for now." She leaned back in the booth. "I have a daughter too."

"I heard. Mom couldn't stop...gushing about it," he told her. "She's always wanted tons of grandchildren, and Aiden isn't with anybody, and Ali and I...have an uh, an agreement, so... Well, she's happy to hear she'll have more than one grandchild to boast about."

Carol nodded. "Sophia's ten. Er, I don't have any pictures of her. I left my purse back at the hotel, and I don't think I've ever touched the camera on my phone."

"I'm not a fan of pictures either. Leslie loves to take...uh, selfies. Ali encourages her and even joins in, but not me." He shook his head and helped himself to her glass of whiskey. "I bet she looks just like you."

"I think she favors both me and her father," Carol argued, her tone light and friendly, a gentle correction. "She...grew up with him mostly, and they mirror each other." A ghost of a smile played on her lips in memory, peeking in on them once when she visited Daryl in the hospital.

"You weren't in her life?"

"It's...complicated."

Seeing she didn't want to linger on it, he decided to come back to it later, and he rushed off to order another drink for them. She couldn't even argue that she didn't want a drink, he was already at the bar. She knew it was going to be rough. She never liked to spend time in bars. After that last night with Daryl, Carol swore to only enter a bar if an investigation call for it. Typically Caesar would go in alone and relay the information for her, especially in the beginning. She wasn't able to resist, but Caesar had been a rock. He had stood by her through it and curbed her urges by piling on leads and paperwork and rehashing all of Andrea's nagging that Carol needed to get her ass over for dinner and to spend time with her. He could have been laying it on thick, but it didn't matter now. It worked, got her head out of the gutter and back where it needed to be.

 _If only he were now,_ she swallowed hard, her eyes falling the amber liquid on the rocks an inch above her right hand. She knew exactly what he'd ordered for her this time, and his guess was right this time. Mostly. She went back and forth, on the rocks, neat, but the drink remained the same. And there it was within her grasp, the angle of the lights above causing the damn liquid to practically glow, and a familiar, long-buried—or so she'd thought—tremble began to spread through her.

– – –

Daryl had spent the day lunching arrows at Axel and Abe, Rosita had used her laptop to dodge the one he tried to hurl at her, earning only a slight glare from the target and amused chuckle from Sophia. He apologized after she threatened to snap the plastic arrow in half, and she handed him his lunch. It was healthy and a sight better than what the hospital had given him. Well, he did like the Jell-O, which was occasionally swamped with pudding. If he woke up before someone tried to swipe it, that was. Asshole. He was injured and wiped from PT, and they were gonna steal his food? Assholes.

"Heard from Mom?" Daryl causally inquired as he worked on the meal before him.

Sophia shook her head and lifted her eyes from book in her lap. "She's busy. I get it. Uncle C told me about what she was doing, and...I hope she's okay."

His brows shot up. "Uncle C?"

Sophia flushed. "Well, what else am I supposed to call him? He _is_ my uncle. Sorta."

"Didn't know you two were so close is all."

She pressed her lips together. "No, we're not really close. He's nice and funny, and he hangs out with us sometimes. I like his daughter a lot. I know her better than I know him, but I noticed he likes when I call him Uncle C." Her eyes revealed there was more behind the nickname.

"Sophia, you okay?" He studied her. "Is—is...he all right?"

"No. He isn't all right at all." She met her dad's eyes. "Sometimes when we're playing, I'll take a break and see him sitting on the couch or looking out the window, and his eyes...are kinda hollow. Like he's thinking about someone he lost, and it's killing him. I dunno if that's it, but I think he's struggling with something. I noticed, though, that he smiles, _genuinely smiles_ , when I call him Uncle C, so I do."

He smiled at her. "Got your mom's instinct, you know that?"

"I do?" Her eyes lit up for only a second before she narrowed them. "How would you know?"

"I just know."

She shook her head and murmured something he couldn't make out, turning the page to the book she was obsessed with.

"What are you lookin' at?" He reached over and lifted it to see the name only to find it was a photo album. "I didn't know you brought any of these from home. Let me see." He saw his daughter pale before his eyes. "Sophia?"

She swallowed hard and hugged it to her chest. "Don't be mad."

"I wasn't gonna be till you said that. Why shouldn't I be mad?"

She lowered her gaze and handed it over. "It's Carol's."

"Carol's?" He moved the tray aside and set the book in his lap. "You went through her belongings?"

"I wanted to unpack her room," she hastily explained. "I thought I was helping, and I came across a couple of these. I thought...maybe I'd catch a glimpse of him, but I dunno any of those people. They're all dead, and I wanted to know why she had these pictures." She opened her mouth to continue, but his frown only deepened, and she dropped her eyes again. "I'm sorry."

"It ain't me you need to apologize too," he corrected. "You don't go through her things, Sophia. I know you wanna know her better"—so did he—"but this isn't the way to do that. Unpacking was a nice thought, but leave it to her."

"She hasn't even called," Sophia whispered, "why would she talk to me about anything?"

"Sophia—"

"She keeps me at a distance." She raised her eyes, a sheen of tears in them. "I've always wanted to know my mom, and now that she's in my life...it's like there's never time. She's too busy with work or personal matters she won't tell me about. I only found out about Sam, because of the trial! And I only found out about pictures in her locket of me and my brother, 'cause you talk in your sleep!"

"I don't talk in my sleep."

"When they pump you full of drugs, you do," she retorted.

"That ain't the point. Sophia, Carol loves you. She loves you so much, and in a way that can't be explained. You're...everything to her, and when she gets back, it'll be different. I promise it will be. She has a lot to work through, sweetheart. I know it's rough, but it'll be better."

"When?" She searched his eyes. "I know...she has to heal and all of that, but...I've waited _ten years_ for my mom, Dad. Now I know who she is, and...she's out of town for I don't know how long, and it's not fair. It's selfish, 'cause I know what's wrong, but I just want my mom. To know her and...catch up." Tears prickled up in her eyes again. "Does that make me a terrible person?"

"No." He set a hand on top of her head. "It doesn't make you a terrible person. I get wantin' your parents around, to just love you and be with you. I do. I can't summon Carol back or fix her problems so she'll hang around, but I know once she's back, you'll be sick of her she'll be around so much."

"That's not possible," she muttered.

"C'mere." He patted the spot beside him, and she climbed onto the bed. He wrapped his arm around his daughter and squeezed her shoulder. "She has shit to sort through, Sophia. Once it's done, it's done. It'll be you and her till I get outta here then it'll be the three of us."

"Four," she corrected. "Mika."

"Fine, the four of us," he smirked. "We'll be a real family."

"A real family," she repeated. "Even though you're not married to each other?"

"Me, you and Merle were a real family," he told her.

"Well, yeah, but Merle isn't my mom," she challenged. "Carol is, and I've seen the way you look at her, Dad."

"How do I look at her?"

"Like Uncle Merle looks at good whiskey," she joked, and he nudged her side as they shared a laugh. "But seriously, why do you look at her like that?"

"I didn't know I looked at her like anything," he confessed.

"Well, you do, and it's confusing." She made a face that was similar to the one Carol had made when she stumbled out into the hall the first time they met. Well, the third time. "Rosita says not to get my hopes up, but then you look at Mom like you do, and...I think maybe I won't have to go from your apartment to her loft every other week or weekend."

He ran his fingers over her hair. "I dunno know about that, kid."

"Did you ever love her?"

He blinked. "Where's this comin' from?"

"Well, Rosita says when two people love each other deeply, they get married and sometimes have kids. Not all couples have kids, but..." Trailing off, she pulled her legs to her chest and hugged them. "But you and Mom had me."

"Rosita says a lot, don't she?" he bitterly uttered, knowing Sophia didn't hear him. He needed to have a talk to her. From the sound of it, she was putting ideas in her head. Ideas she warned him against yet turned around and spewed to Sophia, getting her hopes up. He didn't know what he and Carol were, let alone if they were going to wind up married. Christ. What the hell was Rosita thinking?

"Do you love her? Did you ever?"

"It was complicated between us," he answered. "We weren't together before or after we had you."

"So, you didn't love her." Her lips pursed to the side then she nodded in understanding.

"It wasn't that I didn't love her," he said, not liking the way she was looking at him. She didn't understand at all. "I couldn't afford to. You know what our lives were like, what you went through just a few months ago, and I didn't want Carol to live her life through that. It wasn't till later I even knew she was pregnant with you. I chose to take you in."

"Well, why me _and_ not Mom? Why not both of us?"

"Because Carol's a cop first," he replied. "Wasn't gonna make her pick between me and her morals. I...liked her too much to even consider the possibility of us. I let her go...and was rewarded with you nine months later." He ended with a small smile, only find Sophia grinning at him. "What?"

"You liked her?"

He watched his tone as he spoke, not trusting what she'd take away from it. "Yeah, I liked Carol when we first met. What wasn't to like? You can see she's beautiful, brilliant, a good person with good instincts. She's a good mom too. You'll find that out yourself." He picked up his cup to get a drink of water. "Just be careful before you bring a date home." She would either be normal and happy, or find out everything about them and their parents and their parents' parents the second she got the name. Lucky for the kid though, Merle was in jail so they didn't have to endure the hell Merle had been planning since Sophia wrapped him around her little finger her third day at home. Christ, that kid was screwed.

"You think she's beautiful?"

"It's obvious," he continued. "And it don't mean anything."

"Pretty doesn't mean anything," she retorted. " _Beautiful_ does."

"Says who? Rosita?"

She shook her head. "Uncle Merle did. He said when he calls me beautiful, it's because he means it and because he loves me."

"Huh." A lot of things made sense now. He'd never really heard Merle say I love you to anybody, not even Sophia really. He did call her beautiful, every night he tucked her in or passed by her room. He made it a code for I love you? What the hell? He couldn't just tell her? It wasn't like anybody would judge him. Hell, only he and Rosita were in the house that late. Most of the time Rosita was practically had an caffeine IV just to stay awake to finish up her work, and she had to make notes to remember important details. She didn't bother with them, only to toss a good night to Sophia, and most of the time she did it with a wave. Why did Merle have to be so weird with his affection? Christ. Well, he wasn't one to talk, but at least he told Sophia he loved her with the actual words. Odd that Merle couldn't say that. Not that he judged him. He was sure Merle had his reasons. He'd given up a lot, not surprising that was on the list.

"Still doesn't mean I love her."

She huffed and crossed her arms. "So, I was an accident then?"

"A good one."

"How was I an accident?" She turned to him. "I mean, how did you and Mom even—?"

Alarms went off in his head, and he held his hand up. "Talk to your mom about that. I can't answer that question."

She slid off the bed. "Fine. I'm gonna go call her." She stopped in the doorway when she caught a hint of sorrow in her dad's eyes. "It's okay if you don't get together. We're a real family no matter who I stay with. I just want you guys to be happy, and if you could be happy together...well, that'd be great, but it doesn't matter. You're my dad, and she's my mom, and that's good enough for me. Besides I get a little sister either way."

He chuckled as she ran off to find Rosita to borrow her phone. He wondered how bored these girls were to keep pestering him about feelings he may or may not have. He did feel something for her, that was evident. Be it love or attraction, he couldn't say. Back then he knew it was attraction, knew it could have been more than that were they different people, but they weren't. And it was no longer "back then". He would talk to her when she got back. Until then he wasn't going to linger on it. If he did, he would remember that first meeting. Her beautiful yet sly grin, that twinkle in her eye, _why not?_ , when their lips met and they somehow decided to go back to her place. He could still remember the scent of her perfume. Or soap. He wasn't sure what it was, but it made his skin tingle in memory. Heh, that was one hell of a...whatever it was.

––

Caesar opened the door, Keira bolted inside, dropping her backpack on the floor as she went, and he'd normally reprimand her and have her pick it up. Today he was too tired. He set it on the armchair and noticed Andrea wasn't in her normal spot on the couch. Normally after he dropped Keira off, she was curled up on the couch with a case file or working on her favorite book with a cup of tea. It was her day off, he was positive. Not that the woman knew the meaning of "day off". She was just as bad as Carol, always tinkering on a case or calling a client or consulting a colleague. He'd asked her to take it easy, but that was like trying to make water not be wet.

He loosened his tie and climbed the stairs, heading to the room at the end of the hall that normally served as a guest bedroom. It was now the nursery for their unborn child. He told Andrea to let him handle it—painting it, assembling the furniture, adjusting the many, _many_ stuffed animals Andrea had bought just this past week due to cuteness. If she didn't stop, the entire room would be a collection of stuffed rhinos and elephants and owls and whatever creatures she'd brought, and there'd be no room for the actual baby.

Sure enough Andrea stood in the middle of the room in a long-sleeved shirt stained with paint, a pair of old jeans he didn't knew she owned. Huh, they weren't new, that was obvious. They were...nice. Fitting, the way they hung on her hips...

"Either you have bad news you can't tell me about," Andrea spoke without turning around, "or...you're staring at my ass." She turned to peek at him over her shoulder, smirking at him.

"Well, it's a lovely sight to stare at—er, all of it." He closed the space between them and grasped her hips. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"Mmm, thinking, right."

"What's with that tone? I am thinking."

"Andrea, I didn't make detective on my good looks," he teased. "Besides you left the closet door ajar, I can see the box."

She sighed and leaned against him. "I just want a head start. You know I hate to leave things to the last minute."

"Says the woman I have to practically force feed."

"That was before. When I get distracted, I forget to eat, forget I'm even hungry."

"That makes me have to stay up till two or three in the morning, making sure you've eaten."

"And I appreciate that." She turned her head to nuzzle her face against his neck. "I just want to set it up soon, okay?"

"Okay." He held her closer. "Remember when you stayed up till four in the morning trying to to set up Keira's crib?"

"I insisted on doing it myself for about two more hours then...I gave in and let you help." She chuckled. "And we still needed your mother to help with the damn thing."

"She still won't let us live that down. Just last night she called and said she was available from six to eight if we needed help with the crib."

"That's good, but I've got it covered."

"Meaning?" Andrea was by no means helpless with building things and tools, but she wasn't the best at it. Neither was he, to be honest. He knew cars and guns and a few other basic things he'd picked up from both Dale and Shane. So he wondered who in hell was coming to help her, and given her pause, he knew who that person was. "Please, tell me this is a joke."

"Will that make you feel better?"

He groaned and released her. "When does he get here?"

"Tonight." She faced her husband. "Amy too. They ought to be here by ten."

"Amy? Well, that's good. At least she likes me."

"Dad likes you," she argued. "He just..."

"Hates me?" he offered.

"No."

"Andrea, I heard him over the phone when word got out that you had been kidnapped—that our daughter had been kidnapped. He isn't exactly my biggest fan right now, not that he ever was, but especially now. God, he's gonna kill me." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"He's not angry at you," she stated. "Dad was just angry in general. Can you really blame him? I'm _his daughter_ , and you know how much he loves Keira, _his granddaughter._ He doesn't blame you. He never did. Only you blame yourself."

"I don't blame myself."

"Yes, you do. Don't lie. You don't lie well to my face."

"Fine. Maybe I do, but if I did, I'll take it up with my therapist. She wants to explore that too." He shook his head. "Next week oughta be fun."

She closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around his waist, lacing her fingers together at the small of his back. "Caesar, it'll be a rough week regardless, and don't worry about Dad. He's only here for a few days to help set up the crib and visit with us. Amy's here for three days, but it's partly a business trip, so we won't see much of her."

"Is your mom coming too?" he groused. Her mother didn't hassle him, simply had to know everything about their lives right down to what type of vitamins they took in the morning, if any. She actually checked his blood pressure last time she visited them. His blood pressure.

"Not this time. She's swamped at work, so she's decided to wait until after I have the baby." She searched his eyes. "Don't be so grouchy. Mom's sending cookies, and I made sure she made your favorite."

"Really?" He arched a brow. "Why cookies?"

"Because she wants the baby to come out all cute and fat." He sucked air in through his teeth, and Andrea nodded. "And Dad has to report whether I ate them or not. She...wants to get the head start she never had with Keira, so the next nine months are going to be pure hell."

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Don't worry. Keira and I will help with the cookies. I can talk Mika and Sophia into eating some too."

"Good, because I heard there were dozens."

"Definitely bringing in the kids." He pursed his lips. "I bet Judy and Carl would like some."

"I bet so too." He waggled his eyebrows, and she laughed, pulling away from him. "So, what shall we do about this room?"

"Perhaps wait until we know the sex."

"I meant the furniture. How do we want it to look? We can't have a repeat of Keira's nursery. It was a hot ass mess, and I'm pretty sure that evil rocking chair you brought home was possessed."

"What the hell kind of ghost possesses a rocking chair?"

"The one that can't get a doll." She shrugged. "It was always in the wrong place, and you nearly broke your toe on it five times. Plus the cat kept smacking it then ran out like it'd be shot."

"The cat is crazy, and it was dark, because you didn't leave the nightlight on."

"Keira couldn't sleep when it was on. She always fussed throughout the night if I left it on."

"Kinda funny 'cause she has to have a nightlight now."

"I think she just likes the princess on it."

"Mine was baseball," he recalled. "Carol used to hide it. I think...Karen was in on it too, but she'd never say. She laughed every time I came storming through the house, trying to find it, and Carol would...take off upstairs to her room. Mom would find it in some obscure place, like freezer or somewhere. Karen only laughed harder, and I could hear Carol laughing her ass off when I passed her room."

Andrea smiled at him, clasping one of his hands. She rarely heard stories of his childhood, and when he did share, he avoided Karen altogether. It was a good sign. Maybe everything would be okay. Maybe. "You had a nightlight at eleven?" Her tone was light, teasing, and she got the response she wanted.

A flush crossed his cheek, and he grumbled, "If you had terrible siblings like those two, you'd sleep with a nightlight too."

"I was the big sister, and Amy's too sweet to do anything."

"Lucky."

"I am." She released his hand. "So, the changing table. Where should it go?"

He groaned softly. "I think Keira has homework she needs help with, so I'm gonna...just help her."

"Caesar."

"What? You always seem to know what's best, and with my hours, you'll likely be the one in here the most."

She sighed. "Fine, but you're painting it."

"When? Tomorrow?"

"Actually, yeah. Dad wants to help, and you guys can bond." She socked him in the arm playfully. "I'm gonna pick up the paint on the way to taking Keira to school."

"Christ, Andrea. We don't even know what we're having."

"So? It'll bother me until it's done. I have more important things I should be worried about, don't you think?"

"You're ridiculous."

"Yes, I am, because last time our baby nearly had to sleep in a laundry basket!"

"Hey, we set it up in time!"

"Uh-huh."

He ran a hand through his hair and waved it away. "I'm going to help Keira with her homework. I'm making dinner tonight too, so you can just rest."

"Caesar, in the time that we've known each other," she reached over and tugged his tie free, "have you ever known me to rest?"

"Could you just try?"

"Only if you're with me," she gazed at him, her blue eyes spewing suggestions that didn't involve actual rest, and she flashed him a sweet smile. "Hmm?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, standing two feet in front of him, his tie curled around her fingers. He didn't know if she holding arms up purposefully so her shirt would reveal a teasing line of skin, but he had a feeling. "You tortured Amy when you were kids, didn't you?"

"What?" She hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn. Was he avoiding the subject? Or did that mention of Karen spark something?

"You were the mean sibling."

"Where is this coming from?"

"From that look and the smile." Behind the seduction, there was a hint of something mischievous.

She shook her head. "Now who's ridiculous?"

"And correct."

"I wasn't mean," she argued. "It was all in good fun."

"Guess I'll find out when Keira becomes a big sister. She does favor you."

"Only sometimes. She's a little you otherwise."

"I can't help that my genes are stronger." He reached over for his tie. "I was gonna wear that tomorrow. Keira's parent-teacher meetings."

"I thought I was going." She let him take it then saw the look in his eyes. "Okay, don't." She walked out of the nursery and checked in on Keira, who was working on her homework at the kitchen table. She met Caesar halfway down the hall and crossed her arms.

"Don't what?"

"Act like I'm fragile. I've been pregnant before, and I won't be smothered. I'm perfectly capable of multitasking. I don't stress as much as you do."

"All I want is for you to take it easy."

"I can take it easy when I'm dead. Until then I won't let you try and take on all of my responsibilities. You have a demanding job too, and you can't take on murders and parent-teacher conferences. There's a reason I handle this. God, her teachers don't even know what you look like."

"Ow."

She tilted her head with a wry smirk. "It's true. So just leave it to me, and you can do Keira's career day."

"Are you bargaining with me?"

"No, because that implies you have a choice." She patted his chest. "I'm gonna help Keira with her homework."

"Hey, now that's my thing. If there's nothing else to do—rest. Please."

"Rest is so dull, Caesar."

"But it's good for you. You've been up since six, and you haven't been down since. I'll make you some tea."

"Actually," she confessed, "I passed out when you guys left this morning."

His brows rose. "So, you do know how to rest."

"Why don't you watch TV, and I'll help Keira with her homework?"

"No, it's still our thing, but once we're done, I can think of a few things to preoccupy your time."

"Oh, yeah?" He nodded. "Fine. I'll...watch something. Or maybe read something."

"Haven't you read all the books we own?" He headed downstairs.

"Unfortunately." She greeted Keira with a smile and kissed the top of her head. "You want something to drink, baby?"

"Yes, please." Keira smiled back at her mom. "Are you painting?"

"Not today." She filled the cup Caesar handed her with apple juice and set it on the table, sliding into the chair across from her. "But Dad's painting tomorrow. With Grandpa."

Caesar lifted Keira up and took her seat, setting her on his lap and reviewing what she'd already done. "And Daddy's so thrilled about it."

"Grandpa's coming?" Keira's face lit up. "Grandma too?"

"Not this time, but soon. Aunt Amy's coming."

"Because of my baby brother?" Keira watched her dad erase a few of her answers.

"Baby brother?" Andrea turned her gaze to her husband who focused on wiping away bits of eraser from Keira's homework. "I didn't know you were clairvoyant there, Caesar."

He lifted his head with a shy grin. "A man can hope, can't he?"

"We don't know if it's a girl or boy," she reported, her tone very matter of fact. "But yes, that's why they're coming. Grandpa wants to help set up the baby's room since your parents cannot build a crib to save our lives, and Amy wants to see her niece."

"Hey, I was doing pretty well," he defended. "Sorta well."

"You keep telling yourself that, Martinez."

He chuckled once, not amused and turned to his daughter. "Okay, let's get to work on this then we can watch TV." He handed her the pencil and returned to the first one she'd answered incorrectly, explaining why and how to do it properly.

Andrea observed her daughter and husband, noticing how seriously Caesar took this. She had only popped her head in once or twice when they did homework, just to make sure they weren't goofing off. They never were. She even noticed he knew exactly what he was talking about and explained it to her in a way she could understand it. Andrea suddenly wondered if perhaps he spoke with the teacher, because his knowledge on this subject was too textbook. _Huh, maybe they did know what he looks like_ , she thought as she leaned back in the chair.

About half an hour later, Caesar sent Keira to pick out a movie to entertain Mommy while he started dinner, and Andrea refilled Keira's cup, helping herself to a glass of mineral water. Caesar zipped up Keira's bag after securing her homework in the horse folder marked _Homework_. He set the bag in his seat and pulled out the ingredients for dinner.

"You called Ms. Webb, didn't you?" Andrea placed the jug of juice in the fridge and collected the glasses.

"Homework's changed since we were in school," he replied. "I want to make sure she gets it and gets good grades, so yeah. I call her from time to time." He reached around her for an onion. "She says hi, by the way. She hasn't seen you in a while."

She shook her head but wore a smile. "I didn't know you...were so invested in her education."

"I struggled through school," he admitted. "Karen was the smart one then Carol, and I had too much pride to ask for help. I didn't want Keira to do the same. Thankfully she seems to have her mother's smarts, so it makes it easy."

Andrea leaned against the counter. "I didn't know that. About you and school."

"The things we talk about when you're _resting_." He widened his eyes at her, feigning surprise, then smirked. "Want some popcorn for the movie? Dinner will be a while."

"Sure, but not the sweet kind. I want butter."

"Sure that's good for the baby?"

"It's good for the mother."

"We must keep the mother pleased," he nodded. "Does the mother want dessert?"

"Before the dozens of cookies arrive and threaten my health?"

"Yeah, let's pretend I didn't offer that."

"No, we can have dessert." She peered at him through her lashes. "After dinner and once Keira is tucked in."

He kissed her temple. "Sounds good."

Andrea joined her daughter in the living room, Keira hopped up on the couch while Andrea put their drinks down and swiped a blanket off the back of the couch to wrap them in. Caesar tossed in a bag of popcorn and began to make dinner, clearing off the table and finding his favorite knife. Andrea hated it and tried to throw it out on many occasions, but they made a deal that she could keep that ratty old jersey from her high school—which he knew an old boyfriend had given her—and he could keep this knife. The knife came from a set Carol bought when they lived together. He has fond memories attached to his knife, and at least an ex didn't give him the damn thing. Fucking number 14.

The microwave beeped, he emptied the bag of popcorn into a bowl and Andrea came to claim it. She paused before she rejoined Keira and inquired, "Hey, have you heard from Carol?" She suddenly remembering that she hadn't heard from her in a couple days. She didn't know why she thought of her out of the blue, but now that she had, she was worried.

"No, I haven't." His brows furrowed then tried to brush the feeling creeping up on him away. "She's probably swamped. You know how she gets when she's determined."

Andrea nodded, though not entirely convinced. "Maybe I should call her."

"I thought it was my job to worry about Carol."

"Yeah, well my maternal instincts are in overdrive now." She handed the bowl to Keira and picked up her from the table, dialing Carol's number. She pursed her lips when it sent her immediately to voice mail, so she tried again, but the results were the same. "Her phone must be off."

"She could be at dinner with the Monroes and turned it off to not interrupt their conversation. She could have left her phone at the hotel."

"Are those excuses for me," Andrea sent a text, "or you?"

"They're not excuses. She went to find answers, and there are perfectly good reasons why her phone is off."

She locked her phone. "I sent her a text to call me tomorrow." She curled up under the blanket with Keira and scooped out a handful of popcorn.

"Is Aunt Carol okay?" Keira nibbled on a piece of popcorn, big brown eyes locked on her mom.

"Yeah. She just has a lot on her plate. She'll call us tomorrow, and you can tell her about the fun you and Grandpa had."

"Speaking of, do we have to pick him up at the airport?" Caesar ran water over the tomatoes.

"No, but he'll stop by before he checks into his hotel room."

"Great." He would have to get the Dale face tonight. He could handle his mother's glares of disappointment and annoyance until the world ended. Same went for Carol and Andrea's, but Dale? God, it seared itself into his brain. The first time he saw was when he and Andrea went down the Florida to tell her parents they were getting married. He was never fond of Caesar to begin with and learning he was permanently in his life didn't seem to sit well with him. (Or so Caesar's anxiety told him, as Andrea corrected him, stating Dale liked him time and again.) That would have been fine if later that night Andrea hadn't gotten in the mood and that face kept flashing in his head. He slept on the floor the rest of the trip. He wasn't in the doghouse or anything, just stayed there of his own volition. Andrea kept trying to talk him into sleeping with her, but it was futile. She did get mad until he told her why then she laughed herself near to the death. Dale walked in then, Caesar was on the floor leaning against the bed, and Andrea was rolling around on the mattress. He didn't know what the hell had happened, but he seemed more comfortable with their relationship. He wondered why for the longest time, but he knew it was Dale being protective of his daughter and her happiness.

He cut into the peppers and thought back. He understood where Dale was coming from now. Caesar was a total stranger to him, and all he knew was his profession and the dangers that came with being a cop. Once he learned more about him, he lost that look and treated him like family. It was more natural than before. Dale was a kind man, a kindness that he passed on mostly to Amy, so he treated Caesar well enough. Once he got a read on him and his love for Andrea, he lowered his guard and Caesar actually felt like family. Now after the kidnapping, Dale face would be back in full force, and Caesar likely would be shunned.

"I can feel the stress pouring off you." Her sudden voice made him jump, and she giggled. "Some cop."

"You shouldn't sneak up on a guy with a knife," he huffed.

"I have fast reflexes, and you wouldn't hurt me." She studied his face. "Don't worry so much about Dad. I knew what I was getting into when I married you."

"He told me to protect you from that part of my job, and I didn't." He furiously chopped the vegetables in front of him. "I was four steps behind."

"And we're fine." She caught his wrist and made him look at her. "You can't blame yourself for everything under the sun, Caesar. You aren't God. Bad things happen every day, okay? You need to let this go. Keira and I survived. We're having another child. Don't make me call your therapist."

He chuckled despite himself. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just be my husband. Happy and goofy and ridiculously arrogant, not filled with self-loathing and guilt."

"I'm not _...that_ arrogant."

"And we're having twins," she mused.

"Don't even joke about that."

She laughed as his bronze skin dropped in hue, a cringe working its way through him. "Why not? I thought you wanted a big family."

"I do, but not all at once."

"We're not, so don't look so terrified." She watched him channel his attention to prepare dinner, his shoulders more tense than before, and she dropped her gaze briefly. "Dad doesn't blame you. He blames the assholes who broke into our home. He's glad you're here for us. You know he loves you like family."

"Only your mother loves me."

"Your mother doesn't love me," she shot back.

"What?" He laughed outright. "My mother loves you."

"Not at first."

"She was warming up to you. She'd only heard me talk about you. She had this image of you, and when she met you, it wasn't exactly as she thought, but she loves you. My entire family loves you."

"Right." She remembered the cookout she went to after they told Gloria they were getting married. She knew he had a big family out there somewhere in New York, but she didn't know how big until that day. She met so many of his cousins, learned so many names and mixed so many of those names up. She'd gotten hit on by one of his cousins too. Or two of his cousins. It was hard to tell, because she was so focused on trying to remember which one she was talking to and not their faces. He practically ditched her in the midst of second or third cousins. She wanted to strangle him for that, but she'd found her way to the less flirty and more affectionate part of his family. She was then told she'd good birthing hips and they're kids would adorable angels. Talking about children she and Caesar hadn't even talked about at that point was awkward. She tried to escape the conversation many, many times, but was trapped by a picnic table and a dog. At that point in obviously trying to escape, Gloria saved her, and she'd never loved the woman more.

"Well, they were right about one thing."

"Who?" Confusion tangled in his words. "And were right about what?"

"We did have an adorable child. Your aunt or cousin told me that I had good birthing hips. I guess that's right too."

"Well, I'm fond of 'em," he chimed, brow arched.

She rolled her eyes. "More to the point, your mother wasn't fond of me in the beginning, like Dad wasn't fond of you. Gloria and I spent a lot of time together when I was planning the wedding, and she learned to love me then. Dad respected you when he saw how happy you make me, and that hasn't changed. You're family to him and pretty much till you die or we somehow divorce."

"Divorce?"

"I'm not exactly a churchgoing woman, but I hear you Catholics aren't too fond of divorce. So keep me happy and accept that my father considers you to be family."

"Don't let my mother hear you say that. She still thinks we go to church every Sunday." He had to cook around her, which he was used to, though not fond of in her current state.

"Oh, shit." Andrea pushed off the counter and grabbed the calender off the wall. "Oh, crap!"

"What?"

"Dad'll be here through the weekend, and Gloria invited us over for Sunday dinner. It's one of her mandatory family dinners too." She buried her face in her hands. "Damn it."

"Our parents have met before."

"Caesar, it's you, me, Keira, your mom and my dad in her kitchen for two hours. Dad and Gloria haven't spoken since our wedding, and we can't just ditch Dad for Gloria." She sank down into the chair behind her. "Dad and Gloria both different want things for the baby—and Keira. You know Gloria will want to baptize the baby, and Dad..." She groaned at the headache forming on her left temple. "Two hours."

"You're overreacting."

"Have you met your mother? Have you ever known her to back down?" His head cocked to the left, his eyes deep in thought, and his lips parted in a wince as he caught up to her. "Now toss in my dad and two hours."

"Think we can flee New York before ten?"

"We can try, but Keira's pretty into the movie." She gestured to where their daughter sat nestled in blanket on the couch. "We'd have to drag her away."

"I'm willing to try."

"Me too, to be honest, but the more I smell dinner the hungrier I get for it."

"Fine, we'll just pretend like we're not home then."

"Yeah, that'll work." She ran a hand through her hair and tucked it behind her ear. He'd probably find the hidden key.

"Hey, do you want spicy or no?"

"Mildly spicy. My stomach's...been shifty lately." She slid out of the seat. "I don't know how I'll handle Sunday. I don't know how you handled growing up actually."

He laughed. "It's not that bad."

"It's not just me who thinks that. Keira does too. She got a stomachache last time, because it was too much."

"Well, I could fix that if you let me."

"...the thought of that gave me heartburn." He laughed even harder. "Asshole."

"I can always tell Mom we made plans this Sunday with Dale, you know. She'll understand."

"I'd say yes if Carol were here. She tags along sometimes. But she's not here, and we can't ditch her. It's cruel. We barely visit enough as it is."

"Hey!" He clapped his hands, and Andrea stared at him. "Sorry, I just have an idea. Sophia! We drag her along. Mom's gonna wanna meet her, and it'll stifle the tension of their plans for our baby. Plus she might as well meet her Grandma."

"So Carol can come back and kick our asses for introducing _her_ daughter to your mother?"

"Sophia's itching to learn more about Carol, and Mom wants to meet her. It's a win-win, and Carol can chew me out when she gets back."

She shook her head. "It's your funeral, but...okay. I'll bring the Tums."

"You Harrisons and your weak stomachs."

"You Martinezes and your spicy food."

"I'll show you spicy food." He came at her with a spoon of sauce he was making, and she tried it. "Is it mild enough for you?"

She forced a fake and dramatic cough, and he glared. "Yeah, it is."

"You have some on the side of your mouth," he leaned over and kissed the corner of her lips. "Wait, missed some." He kissed her again. "Got it."

"You sure?"

"Maybe not." He pressed another kiss to her lips.

"Mom!" Keira called excitedly. "C'mon, this is the best part!"

"Coming." She set her hands on his chest. "We can finish this later." She hurried back to keep Keira from hassling her and to not miss "the best part", ignoring the fact that she'd pretty much blocked the beginning out and missed some of the middle.

Caesar smiled to himself, returning to the stove, and he hoped Carol didn't mind that he was taking Sophia to meet Gloria. It wasn't that big of a deal, right? She would meet her sooner or later, and it wasn't like the kid had many plans. She could learn about Carol as a kid, and Mom could get to know her granddaughter. It would keep her off his back for a time. Knowing how curious and desperate for details Sophia was, he knew it would work. It was terrible, and Carol might be pissed at him, but oh well. What's the worst thing that could happen? Sophia might find out Carol was a terror to him when they were kids? Hell, he could have told her that. Her and Karen, the worst tag team ever.

He exhaled and hoped Carol was all right with whatever was happening with those Monroes. He didn't want to consider what the worst thing that could happen there would be. He didn't know her back then, and neither did she anymore, so there was no point in guessing, but he hoped they brought her closure and good memories. Lord knew she didn't have enough of those.


	30. Yeah

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

––

Carol found herself in her hotel room. She honestly hadn't a clue how she'd manged to clamber her way here. She recalled speaking with Spencer then all of a sudden she was here, in her bed, passed out, smelling like a bar and still in her clothes from dinner.

Sporting a headache the size of Guadalajara, she stumbled into the shower. She scrubbed the scent of the bar off her skin and out of her hair, wishing she had something for the headache. She vaguely recalled what brought it on. She passed out last night. She hadn't blacked out with no recollection of the day since her drinking days. They were long behind her, despite how close she came last night. Eleven years sober nearly broken because Spencer wanted to get her out of the tension that filled the house and to learn about her. Damn.

As she checked the time and saw it was pretty late, she changed into her nightclothes, folding her clothes from last night and her eyes catching the mini bar. She wasn't going to be tempted. If anything, the price of the items in there should deter her. She would have enough trouble with the loft, and she didn't need that. She had to focus on what she was going to do next. She and Spencer had gotten to know each other as much as she'd allowed, and she liked having him around. He was definitely the big brother, and it was...oddly consoling. The last older sibling she had was gone, but he was right there, eager to close the gap time and Ed had created. As were Deanna and Reg. Aiden, not so much.

She scraped a hand through the still damp curls in her hair and blew out a sigh, closing her eyes and try and keep the urge to to drink away. It had never been so strong before. In the beginning, yes. It was like a screaming child in her ear, but as years went on it began to die down and vanish almost entirely. She could be in the same room with booze and not be affected. It didn't entice her in the slightly, but now it was like something had changed.

Her hands had actually began to twitch with need at the bar tonight. She had to still them under the table and glue her eyes to Spencer's face. She had to remind herself to listen to his words and reply to his questions. She had to keep on herself to comment and keep the conversation going when he stopped. She had to keep from grabbing that glass of scotch out of his hands and either tossing it back or against the wall and storming the hell out of there without a backward glance.

It wasn't his fault she didn't reveal her past alcoholism. He was just being friendly, trying to loosen the edge of tension and unease the only way he could think of. He seemed to pick up to her reluctance to drink, because he had stopped as well. He finished off his glass and hers, but he didn't order anymore, claiming when asked to be distracted by their conversation. She had laughed and smiled, but she knew he'd picked up on it. If he hadn't, he wasn't the brightest person in the world. No offense to him. He was very kind, good company even. She was glad she'd taken a chance to get to know him. Now all that left were the parents and Aiden, who would sooner gouge his own eyes out than sit across from her at the dinner table.

She hadn't the slightest idea how she was going to broach the subject of the time gap. He came out swinging just seeing her, and to have an actual conversation that lead to progress would either take time or luck. She didn't have time. She was eager to get home and see her girls, but she couldn't—wouldn't leave things this way. She might not have the proper speech or whatever it was Aiden was looking for to make his wounds and his past ache less. She didn't even have the words for her own past, but they couldn't go on like this. She did want to try and have...something with them. She couldn't do that if he came at her with daggers. She wouldn't subject her daughters to that. Thus she had to get through that outer shell he was fond of, find the heart of the problem and solve it. If she could. She wasn't sure it was possible, but she had to attempt it at least. For their sake and her own. She didn't give up simply because the going got tough, so Aiden better be up for one hell of a fight.

Groaning at the pulsing pain ricocheting in her skull, Carol recalled what brought on her headache. It was this, these thoughts, and trying not to drink. She had clenched her jaw and ground her teeth and fought and argued all night long to formulate a plan and to keep from picking up that shot of scotch. No wonder her headache was only getting worse as she lingered on the subject.

It dawned on her then this headache could also be the product of no food. She hadn't eaten since early that morning, and the few bits from dinner didn't satisfy her appetite. She thought Spencer had suggested grabbing a bite from a burger joint down the way, but she wanted to get home. She should have taken him up on the offer. Oh well, there was always room service. Or she could leave the hotel and find something.

Deciding against leaving, she ordered something from room service, ignoring the thoughts of how good a drink would taste with it. She clenched her saw and willed the thoughts away, hoping once she'd eaten, this urge would die down. She'd worked too hard for it not to.

– – –

Daryl couldn't sleep. He was restless, his legs and body stiff, and he wanted to get some fresh air. He couldn't, and the only thing he could do was call a nurse. He and the night nurse weren't friendly. She often reprimanded him when he tried to squirm out of bed and down the hall. He didn't make it far, but he got further each time. Maybe one day he could escape. At least experience the night air on his skin before he was dragged back to his bed.

He tapped his thumbs on his chest and wondered how long until he either passed out or tried to get out again. He knew the woman's routine well, and he had a ten minute window to dash to the elevator. He was doing well in PT to make it that far, might need crutches, but he could do it. Maybe. He might also fall flat on his ass and have to charm her into not lecturing him for an hour like she did last time. Like she knew the limits of his body better than he did. Christ.

He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to get comfortable, but that wasn't in the realm of options anymore. He hated this bed. He wanted to torch it. He was tempted to ask if he could do that, with this one or an old, it didn't matter. He wanted to burn the fucking thing or the closest thing to it. He wasn't picky, and he'd pay them back if they wanted money.

His eyes fell on the album that rested on the table beside him. He meant to tell Sophia to put it back where she found it, but he hadn't gotten around to it. He was so distracted by trying to avoid an awkward discussion with his daughter. One he prayed Carol would give her. He just couldn't do it. She was his little girl, and there were things he couldn't talk about with her. Carol was her mom and a woman, and she knew _that stuff_ better than he did. Sophia would unquestionably be more at ease talking to her mom about that than with him. Hell, he didn't even know what he would tell her. He planned to toss Rosita into the room when she asked him and leave her to it. Now he had Carol, and he didn't have to try and throw it off on someone else. She would want to do it herself. He hoped she did anyway. She was very assertive.

He picked up the album and opened the cover, seeing the obituaries inside. He knew what this was, but he hadn't told Sophia about it. He'd seen it at Carol's place before he went under. It was the night she told him about Sam and Rick. He'd been nosy, and she wanted to clean herself up from the tears. He poked through the first one and saw writing on the inside. He closed it instantly and let them be. It was part of her healing process, how she made peace with the murders, and he wasn't going to discomfort her with questions and any off expressions his face made. It was her business, and to be honest, it was endearing. She cared so much, those families were in good hands, and he hoped they knew that. Their loved ones were gone from the world, but Carol made it her mission to find their killers and lock them away. It was admirable.

He turned the page. And it was heartbreaking at the same time. There were blank pages in the book with two or three question mars drawn equally spaced out for cases she couldn't close. He could almost feel the resentment in her question marks. She hadn't been able to give the families closure, hadn't been able to give herself closure. She didn't take this bastard off the street, and he suspected it ate a hole in her chest. He pondered how many holes Carol's heart bore, all done by murder and likely never capable of being filled. He wished he could fill them somehow, with the right words or look. To assure her they'd get theirs, to show her sometimes shit happens and assholes get off, but not forever. He'd seen that. Sooner or later, they'd get theirs, and while it wasn't the justice Carol approved it, it was nevertheless justice.

Maybe one day he would look at her and see something beyond a cop, beyond a protective mother; someone who was thoroughly happy and laughing and enjoying life outside her job; someone who could look the world and see more than the shadows and the creeps that stand just behind them. He didn't know if he would be the one, or if it would Sophia and Mika, or if it would someone else who'd yet to enter their lives, but he didn't care as long as it happened. He wanted to see the full smile he'd caught on the second night with her. He wanted to see that beautiful smile free from booze and completely genuine; he wanted to hear her laughter, loud and hysterical, without being forced or halfhearted. He wanted the world to see the woman he knew she was, beneath the fighter and the planner, beneath the layers of loss and despair and dedication she wore as a shield. Even if it was just a glimpse, he wanted to see it.

He swallowed, an pang deep in his chest drawing his attention, and he tried to ignore it. He had to ignore it. That was a line he couldn't cross. It wasn't due to his job anymore. It was due to the fact that she deserved better, and he couldn't give her that. If by some stroke of fate she let him, he wouldn't. He didn't know what kind of life he could offer himself, let alone someone else, so it couldn't be a possibility. Well, not now anyway.

––

Having finished her dinner, Carol paced the length of her bed, trying to decide if she was going sink into the mini bar or sink into bed. Her head kept telling her to pick the bed, to simply jump on the sheets and bury her face in a pillow until she fell asleep and the urge was out of her mind. Her head was very persuasive and logical. She knew the argument of to do or not to do was pointless yet...there was another voice.

It was as urgent and demanding as her need to draw in air. She could feel it pushing against her chest and her hands, trying to lock out logic and reason, and it was damn close to. It was only building and building in her chest, crushing everything in its path, and she felt suffocated by the need. There was nothing else—no other desire, no sound, nothing in her line of sight. Just the need, engulfing her more and more. She paced ruts into the carpet as she turned around and around, the confines of her room too small, and she was breath heavily, her heart racing in her ears.

She halted and squeezed her eyes shut, dropping down on the bed, but not for long. She could still see the damned mini bar, and she flung herself out of bed and out the door. She scurried out of the building and gulped in fresh air, slumping against the wall once out of sight. She dragged her hands through her hair and shrank down, able to breath again, and she inhaled as much as her lungs could bear and liberated the air harshly.

She did that several times until her heart stopped racing, and she could think again. She swallowed and pushed off the wall, wrapping her arms around herself and shuffling over to a bench. She was alone, and it was silent. It was peaceful. She couldn't go back to that room yet. She would give it time, time for the urge to to burn itself out, time for her head to clear, time to find the root of her need to drink. Just time.

She leaned back and gazed at the stars overhead and felt an perplexing chill cross her chest. She knew what it was. She had become good friends with this chill. Normally it was a dull throbbing she could push to the back of her mind. It wouldn't be blocked out tonight. Given her state moments ago, being lonely was preferable. She could tolerate it.

She pulled her legs up to her chest and felt a pinch in her pocket. She dropped her hand and felt the outline of her phone. She pulled it free and was about to discard it to her lap when an idea formed in her mind. She turned it on and waited, observing the load screen and discovering, when it was fully functional, she had missed calls. One from Rosita, two from Andrea, and a couple from the land line at the loft. She listened to the messages left and didn't hear anything urgent. She made a note to call Andrea in the morning.

She called Rosita to see why she didn't leave a message, knowing she was wide awake, even at this hour. She waited while it rang, and then when she answered, it wasn't the right voice.

"Daryl?"

"Hey." He sounded embarrassed. "Expecting Rosita?"

"Yeah, actually. She's the only one who didn't leave a message." As an afterthought, she concluded it was a stupid reason, but it was why she called.

"It was Sophia. She wanted to talk to you. I've been meaning to get her phone, but...you can figure out why I haven't."

"I'll take her shopping for one when I get back."

"She'd like that."

"So, why on earth do you have Rosita's phone?"

"She spends more time here than anywhere else since she's still under investigation, and she forgets it sometimes. Sophia had it last, so it's not surprising it was left behind. She was trying to call you, like I told you."

"I see."

"Do you want me to hang up?" he softly questioned. "'Cause she ain't here."

"No! Uh, no, don't hang up." She shifted on the bench. "I...could use someone to talk to right now. If I'm not getting in the way of your rest."

"You're not."

She smiled a little. "How are you then, Dixon?"

"Restless and permanently in a state of soreness." She laughed. "It ain't funny."

"No, you're right. I'm sorry." She stifled a few laughs, holding the phone away. She knew that soreness, and his tone was...the embodiment of it. "Anything else? Anything good, I mean."

"Aside from talkin' to you instead of glaring at the walls? No."

Her heart fluttered as the loneliness that had settled there began to dissolve. "How's physical therapy coming?"

"Well. I'm recovering faster than they thought. They keep warnin' me to not push myself, but I can't help it. I wanna leave."

"Take it easy, Daryl. I don't want to you locked in a wheelchair forever. Think of Sophia. I'll have to walk her down the aisle, if she ever decides to marry." She was musing, knowing full and well he could still walk her.

"Over my dead body." She chuckled. "I mean that, Williams."

"I don't doubt it." She wrapped her free arm around her legs. "How are my girls? If you've seen Mika, that is."

"I have. She comes to the hospital with Sophia. She's a sweet kid. She doodles stuff for me. I'm still trying to work out if this last one is me or...some kind of alien." He chuckled as he looked at it. "It's kinda of a mess. Cute though. She didn't have to draw me anything."

"You're bonding?"

"I wouldn't say that, but we ain't strangers."

"That's good to hear. I don't want to make her uncomfortable while we're living together."

"Kid as sweet as her probably wouldn't tell you if she was."

"Which is why I appreciate the effort." She wanted him to come home to a tension free atmosphere, where he could sit back and relax and heal. Simultaneously, she didn't want Mika to feel awkward in her own home, and she didn't want to try and force a peace between them. Hearing things were settling between the two warmed her heart. One less problem checked off the list. It didn't hurt he was also a dad. Mika must be seeking that support right now.

She rested her head in her hand and closed her eyes. She should be there with Mika and Sophia right now. They were trying to adjust to this new life, and she was out here, not sure what she was doing, save for dumping them off on her friends. _Great parenting, Williams._

"Don't mention it. It's nice to talk to someone who isn't lecturing me." He noticed her prolonged silence. "Carol?"

She forced teasing as she spoke. "Ooh, who's lecturing?"

"Everybody," he grumbled. "The night nurse especially. She always glares at me and makes me stay in bed. If she had to sleep here, she'd understand me not wanting to lie here."

"Hmm." She opened her eyes. "I bet."

He hesitated. He knew if he pushed, she'd likely pull an excuse out of her ass and hang up. He didn't want to go back to brooding in the dark, and he was concerned. Mustering his courage, he asked, "You all right?"

"Do you want an honest answer? The explanation might be long."

"I got nothin' but time."

"You sure?"

"Carol...I'm pretty damn sure."

She smiled. "Well then." She rubbed the back of her neck and began to unload her problems on him. From her first encounter with the Monroes to her fight with Aiden to her discussion with Spencer. She couldn't keep it all inside anymore. Lord knew she wanted to. She wanted to be able to solve all of her problems on her own, but she couldn't. She was so exhausted. She didn't have the energy right now to keep fighting her anxieties and produce solutions out of thin air. She wanted someone to confide in, someone who had fresh eyes and thoughts, and she hadn't expected it to be Daryl, but as she spilled her guts to him, she felt lighter. She felt better, and she wasn't worried about the repercussions. He wasn't going to judge her or laugh at her, and somehow knowing that began to chip away at the need to drink this day—this week—this month—this year into oblivion.

– – –

Caesar brushed the hairs from Andrea's neck aside, she moaned sleepily in his arms, and he placed a kiss to her exposed skin. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, closing his eyes. It was late, and he would need coffee to keep his eyes open come morning, but he didn't care. He was used that sluggish feeling that even ten cups of coffee couldn't cure, and he might as well remember what it was like, because in eight plus months he was going to relive those days. If this child was anything like Keira, he was going to need a hell of a lot of coffee.

Dale and Amy had stopped by before checking into their hotel rooms, and it had been an experience that was for sure. Dale didn't speak to Caesar when he walked in, only hugged to his daughter and granddaughter. Amy threw her arms around him with the biggest smile and said it was good to see him. It washed away the ice Dale had given him, and he hugged her a second longer for that. He didn't want Dale to think he was sweet on Amy. That might fan the flames, despite the fact that Amy was like a sister to him. He loved that kid. She was so sympathetic and endearing and affectionate, like a puppy. He'd never tell her that. She might turn into Andrea and smack the shit out of him. He would and wouldn't be astonished if she did.

Dale and Amy helped themselves to their leftovers, Keira ranted on and on about school and class pictures and the like. Dale appeared to be listening to her every word, and Andrea kept trying to get her to stop gushing so she could put Keira to bed. She failed. She was too excited about her Grandpa Dale and Aunt Amy to listen to her mom about the time. Dale begged Andrea give her five more minutes, and she caved, demanding he put Keira to bed, and she stuck around at the table to hear the end of Keira's story.

Amy had joined him on the couch with her plate, teasing him and making jokes about his inability to build a crib. He tried his damnedest to change the subject, but Amy brought it back to his lack of handiness. She wasn't being too cruel, and he could laugh it off. See, the jokes he could take, but not the look Dale was giving him. It wasn't a glare or _the_ face; it was just this thorough scrutinizing expression. He almost asked what that look was about, but he stopped himself and excused himself for the night. Mussing up Amy's hair on his way as revenge for jokes, he kissed Keira's forehead night and headed to his room.

Andrea met him half an hour later when they left, their dessert plans were kept, and she'd been out like a light since. He couldn't seem to drift off himself. He didn't know what was keeping him awake. The sheer dread of Sunday dinner? Having to go back to work without Carol in the office and being temporarily partnered with someone else? His pregnant wife refusing to slow down? His father-in-law glaring at him like he'd kill his puppy? All of the above perhaps.

He knew his mom would be an excellent hostess. She would welcome Dale and the girls and be amazing. She loved having the house full, and he knew with kids there her attention would focus on them. It might switch to Andrea few times, but that little redhead would be politely asking for stories and pictures of Carol, and he knew his mother would cave. She had such a soft spot for her grandkids, and he was tempted let that slip to Sophia thus buying them more time with no dead air, but he knew the kid was as quick as a whip, and she'd figure it out in no time.

He didn't mind Lerner. She was a damn good detective, dedicated and sharp. She and he were in the academy together, and he knew just how good she was. It just didn't feel the same when it wasn't Carol. Growing up with her made their minds similar in some ways; ways that helped them bring down yet another murdering asshole. She knew just went to jump for the throat, and he knew when to feed their ego. They didn't have to use words, just played off each other like they were the same being. It wasn't the same with Lerner. He hoped Carol came back soon, but at the same time he hoped for later, that way she had more time with her...other family and to get things sorted there. Regardless he was stuck with Dawn—again. They were partnered together when Carol...was pregnant. God, she was probably still a hard ass.

His hand slid down Andrea's arm to her lower stomach, she shifted in his arms, rolling onto her back, and he froze, hoping she didn't wake up. Luckily she didn't, and he smiled tenderly at her sleeping face, stroking her midsection gently with his thumb. He didn't care if he was going to be surrounded by all girls, or if he'd finally even the score and they had a boy. He wanted the baby to be healthy, as well as Andrea. He knew there was no slowing her down, but he could pray. She worked herself to death before she found out she was pregnant, and she didn't seem to care to focus on slowing all that much. She ate and kept hydrated, got enough sleep and made sure she had her vitamins, but she still practically lived in her office. Her coworkers teased that she'd have a nursery built into her office; she laughed it off while he paled. She would do that if it meant she could continue working.

"That's not my stomach," Andrea whispered to him, eyes still closed. "And if you're doing _that_ , I should probably be awake."

He chuckled. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She opened her eyes. "Please, I can function on a twenty minute nap. You're the one who gets cranky."

"You should be getting eight hours."

"So should you."

"I'm not carrying our child."

She covered his mouth with her hand. "Just shush, okay? Close your eyes and stop thinking." She rolled over onto her side. "I sleep better when you're asleep, you know that. I can steal the good pillow."

"I already gave it to you."

"That's not what it feels like."

"These don't feel like the good pillow either, thank you very much."

"Caesar, no more thinking." She searched his eyes then reached over and combed her fingers through his close cropped hair, stroking his temple with her thumb. "Just get some sleep, baby."

He sighed. "Good night then."

She kissed him. "Good night."

– – –

Carol ambled back toward the hotel as the black night sky began to glow with blue, a smile on her lips as Daryl told her about the time he was lost in the woods and got poison ivy. She laughed under her breath to not draw anyone's attention. She wasn't sure what time they'd started talking, but they'd gone over so many things. He had helped her come up with a plan on how to break the wall of ice around Aiden, and he'd even calmed her anxiety enough that she could return to her room without contemplating raiding the mini bar.

"What was it like?" She unlocked the door to her room and removed her boots.

"What was what like?"

"Holding our daughter." She plopped down on the bed and crossed her legs. "What were her first words? Her favorite toy? God, what did she think of the rain?"

"The rain?" His tone was curious.

"Sam loved the rain when he was a baby—not serious storms, but something about the soft patter of rain soothed his sobs." She smiled fondly, groping her locket. "When it was the right type of rain, I would bundle him up in his blankets and hold him in my arms by the window. He'd look at me and smile... Just the happiest smile in the world, like nothing could bring him down." Tears burned in her eyes as she thought back.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her voice broke on the word, but Daryl didn't point it out or make a big deal of it. "What about her?"

"Kid loves rain," he replied. "When she was four, I'd open the front door and sit just inside with her in my lap. She'd lean back on my legs and just look out at the rain or giggle at me or just...wanna play a game. She'd fall asleep sometimes, and I'd...cover her up and let her nap for a bit. Didn't matter how stiff my legs were, I wasn't gonna move."

Despite the tears that streamed down her cheeks, Carol laughed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he repeated softly, wishing he could be there to wipe the tears away and assure her it'd be okay. He was here, and Sophia was here. They would be sure she was never alone again. "Guess she got it from her mom."

"Gloria had to drag me inside to keep me out of the rain," Carol murmured. "I loved how it felt on my skin, how it looked around me, and I loved to jump in puddles and drag Caesar out to play with me. Gloria would chase us with towels and umbrellas, yelling at us in Spanish. _Niños, you'll get sick if you keep this up,_ she'd say. _Dentro de la casa ahora, los niños_ _._ "

"Sounds like you gave her hell."

"I suppose so." She rubbed her thumb over the engraving on her locket. "You have no idea what I said, do you?"

"Nope."

She laughed at his honesty. "It means: inside the house now, children."

"Figured that's what it meant."

She laughed again. "I bet you did." She relished the warmth in her chest and inquired, "How about you? Did you give your parents hell too?"

"More like they gave me hell." A muscle in his jaw tightened as he thought back to his father and mother. They didn't deserve the name. They barely kept a roof over his head, and to be honest, it wasn't worth it. He'd rather lived in the woods, or in a gutter somewhere.

"Oh?" Carol lifted her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just...don't have fond memories of 'em is all."

"They hurt you?"

He should have flinched that her mind went there first. He could have been a bratty child, unappreciative, but she knew right off the bat that wasn't it. He internally and bitterly lauded the detective in her, knowing he should avoid this subject, but they were exposing old wounds; he might as well shed some light and dusty the cobwebs off on this one too. It was only fair, and he didn't mind her knowing. "Mostly my old man," he confessed. "My mother was too busy tryin' to drink her life away. Guess it worked in the end."

"How do you mean?"

"She blacked out drunk on wine, dropped a lit cigarette and...there goes her, the house. Already lost Merle and now her and the house. Old man blamed me, 'course. Still got the scars to prove it." He huffed out an acidic scoff, a fire rolling up in his chest at the memory. They had been buried for so long yet still held so much over him. He had gone so far, done so much, to try and escape his past only to have it all rush back at the slightest mention. It was a fucking joke.

"I'm sorry." She had two families that loved and wanted her around, and he didn't even have one. Not until much later that was. He had his brother then their daughter, and now he had this whole mess of family with Rosita, Abe, Axel, Oscar and the others along with Merle and Sophia. And her. "I wish I was there with you..."

"Huh?" He blinked, all of that anger and resentment banished to the furthest recesses of his mind. "Why?"

 _Had she said that aloud?_ She blushed and quickly backtracked. "I didn't say anything." The lack of sleep was catching up to her. "Tell me something." She lied down, holding back a yawn.

"I'll think about it."

She chuckled groggily. "Do you have plans? For what you're back on your feet?"

"Yeah, 'course. I got it worked out. I know...a guy. He'll give me a job. The pay is decent, and I can get a place of my own."

"You won't stay at the loft? After you're all healed up?"

"Nah, it's for you girls. Better I find my own place."

"You wouldn't be imposing. It was your place before you and Rosita moved us in." She yawned and wiped the water that flooded her eyes. "It'd be okay with me and Sophia; and if you and Mika get on so well, she'd happy to have you."

"Better I find my own place," he echoed, resting his head on the pillows behind him. "Hey?"

"Hey?"

"You tired yet, Williams?"

"Maybe."

"'Cause I'm about to pass out." Her laughter brought a smile to his lips. "Nah, I got a couple more minutes in me, you know, if you need to keep talking."

"Thank you," Carol murmured. "For picking up the phone and talking to me."

"Should be thankin' you. You got me through the most boring part of my day. Actually tired now. That's a first in too long."

"I feel the same." She rolled onto her back. "I'll talk to the Monroes in the morning."

"It _is_ the mornin'."

Her eyes found the honey light pouring in through the crack in the curtains, spilling out onto the royal blue carpet of her hotel room, dusting the edge of her bed. "So it is."

"Good morning, Carol."

"Good morning, Daryl." She could almost see his soft smile. "Hmm."

"What?"

"I...like talking to you first thing in the morning," she shyly confessed. It was comforting. "I'll talk to you tonight then."

"Yeah."

She was about to hang up when he called her name. "Yeah?"

"I like misty mornin's. Rain's all fine and good, but I like the mist, especially in the woods. I'll take you with me sometime, let you see what I see."

"I'd like that."

"And Carol?" He paused to hear her weary-laced _mmm?_ through the phone. "If you need...someone to talk to, just give me a call."

"I will. Thank you." She hung up and plugged her phone in, the battery dangerously low from their all night discussion. She curled up and smiled to herself at his words, falling asleep simply and deeply.


	31. Certain Conclusions

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

––

"What the hell?" Rosita stared at the measly two percent her phone clung to life with. She had charged it before she came to the hospital, she knew. It didn't die unless she used it, and only Sophia had used it. She put it back in the overnight bag, not Rosita's purse, but it should still have some battery life. What the hell?

Daryl was sleeping soundly beside her. She doubted he'd use it to call someone, but maybe. She checked the recent calls and smiled to herself at the last caller. She nodded at the length of the call, explaining her drained battery, and she plugged it into the charger. Yes, but he didn't love her in any way, shape or form, simply let her call at him eleven in the evening and talk on until six. Rosita barely spent _an hour_ on the phone with Abe, and they were actually together. But there was _nothing_ going on between the two of them.

She was curious to know what they conversed about for so many hours. It could have to do with the girls. It could have to do with their living arrangement as well. She might have changed her mind about having him stay with her and the girls, or she might have asked him how he felt about the situation. There wasn't anyone else to take him in. Rosita didn't mind, but it would cause some problems. She wasn't really supposed to be visiting him, but she used the excuse of Sophia. She was her wheels while Carol was away, so it worked. No one batted an eye; she was just bringing a little girl to see her wounded father in the hospital.

But she was digressing. More to the point, he would be more comfortable having his kid around. He and Sophia were like two peas in a pod, and it would be great for them to close to each other. Carol didn't even have joint custody of her, or even a hint of custody. The kid was entirely Daryl's, so there was that. They might have to work on that. Carol would definitely want partial custody of her daughter. If she was a slime ball, she could go for full custody using Daryl's current state against him. She wasn't like that, and she wouldn't do that to him. Sophia wouldn't forgive her. Daryl wouldn't forgive her. Hell, even Rosita herself wouldn't forgive her.

What the hell was her point? She couldn't recall what it had been. Proving the pressure of today was eating at her. Remembering that, she checked her watch and winced. It was time to face the music. Her meeting with Michonne was today, and she had to temporarily dump the girls with Daryl. Andrea was picking them up to get them something nice for their dinner on Sunday, and Rosita would see them at six. They were eating at their place, thankfully. Mika was picky, but Caesar was great with picky kids. He would have eating her greens and potatoes in no time.

"Daryl?" She hated to wake him. He was out cold for the first time in far too long. The chat with Carol must have worn him out. "Daryl? Hey, wake up." She crossed her arms. "Hey, asshole, rise and shine."

He grunted. "No."

"Yes. I need you to babysit the girls. I have to meet Michonne, and Andrea's in a meeting until noon. She'll pick the girls up afterward. Until then you're babysitting, so wake your white ass up."

He shot her a glare. "I'm up. Happy now?"

"I'll be happy when you tell what you and Carol talk about for eight hours." She smirked.

"What?" He rubbed his eye. "What are you talking about?"

"You. Carol. My phone. Eight hours."

"We talked for eight hours?" he murmured to himself. "Don't phones just tell you when you call?"

"You really need to spend more time with technology, Daryl." She leaned toward him. "So, what did you talk about?"

"I don't even remember. It was late, and she couldn't sleep."

"Why did she call me?" They hadn't spoke much since the whole kidnapping debacle. She knew their relationship was fine, but random calls that late? What had she been trying to tell her? Shit. Should she call her back?

"Sophia used your phone to call her, there was no message, so she called back." He straightened himself out on the bed, not wanting to rehash the personal discussion they'd had. "Don't you have a meetin'?"

"I do, but curiosity and all." She shouldered her purse. "My phone is charging, so next time you two have a late night chat, hook it back up. You're lucky I carry two phones, or I'd kick your ass for draining the battery."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Wish me luck. If I'm not back by seven or eight, assume I've been arrested."

"Uh, Rosita—"

"Don't worry. I've made arrangements for the girls if that's the case. I have a large family, and they'll take good care of them until Carol returns. Be careful with PT, okay? Don't push yourself."

"Yeah, don't get arrested."

"I shall try. I might have to bust out the charm."

"What charm?" He snorted a laugh.

"I have charm." She glared. "I just don't use it unless my ass is on the line."

He chuckled. "Good luck."

"Thank you."

He watched her leave, guilt settling in his chest, and he exhaled, hoping it'd expel itself, but it didn't work. He knew he couldn't hold himself responsible for her choices, or what she did with her free will, but he knew if he hadn't let her be involved, she wouldn't be in this mess. She was an adult, and hell, she could have wormed her way in to repay some debt she felt she owed, but maybe he should have turned her down. She'd be safer that way. She wouldn't have risked not only her job but her freedom, her name and her reputation.

He combed a hand through his hair. He knew if he had rejected her and kept his foot down, he wouldn't have Sophia. Neither of them wouldn't have a damn clue she even existed. Rosita wouldn't have felt the need to look out for him, so she wouldn't have gotten involved with Carol's pregnancy to know Sophia was his. Sophia would have gone to the family with the little girl named Enid Carol had picked out, and God knows who she would be. Carol and he wouldn't have been kidnapped or beaten or shot. She never would have hovered over him and tended to his wounds, smiling sweetly as she gave him blood to replenish blood he'd lost. He never would have known just how damn strong his daughter was, and the sniper would still be on the loose. He might have even slipped out from under Phillip's thumb and hunted Carol down. He might have caught her in his scope and pulled the trigger.

His stomach boiled at the thought of that, of Carol facing the same fate as her child, and he had to focus to keep his dinner down. It wasn't a delight to swallow in the first place. He'd hate to see it in reverse. "Shit." He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back on the pillows. Yeah, it was best he didn't try and wish things different. Shit would be so fucked up if they changed even one detail, wouldn't it?

"Dad." Sophia climbed onto the bed. "Hey."

"Hey." He smiled at her and lifted her chin, spotting the freckle-kissed path on her nose. "You got some sun?"

"We went to the park." She moved his hand and placed a rock in it. "We also painted rocks. I made this for you."

It was painted white with a black arrowhead on it. "Huh. It's cute. Thanks."

"I made Mom one too, and Grandma."

He narrowed his eyes. "Grandma?"

She nodded hastily. "Grandma Gloria. Uncle C is taking me and Mika to see her on Sunday. We have to get clothes for church today, but I'm really excited. Can you come too?"

"Uh, I don't—I don't think so." He backtracked. "Who—who's Gloria?"

"Mom's mom. Well, her adoptive mom. She's making dinner for all of us, and Uncle C said she'd tell me all about Mom when she was my age!" She was beaming. "And she'll teach us how to make some kind of dessert. I can't pronounce it, but it sounds really good. I can't wait! I've never cooked with anyone before! And Uncle C said Grandma is super nice and just as excited to meet us."

"Slow down." He smirked. "And take a breath. You're turning blue."

She scolded. "Don't be a party pooper. You have to come! Please? Please? You got out for the trial."

"Sophia, that was different. We—we all needed to be there for Carol." He mussed her hair. "And I don't think I should meet her. We ain't family."

"Through me you are!" she urged. "Please, please. Daddy, please."

"Hey, don't play dirty."

"C'mon, you have to come. You said you were getting stronger. So did the doctors. It's just one night."

"I dunno. I'll have to talk to my doctor, but I'll try."

She squealed and hugged him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She kissed his cheek and ran off to tell Mika.

He shook his head and turned the rock over in his palm. He wondered why Carol didn't mention that when they talked. She brought up her mother, but not that Sophia was meeting her mother. Huh. That was really weird. She had to know Sophia would blab about it. She couldn't keep her mouth shut if she was excited, and she was thrilled about meeting this Gloria. Poor woman, he hoped she was prepared for Sophia all hyped up. Kid was a ball of energy most days. Well, she did raise Carol. She knew.

He pursed his lips. But maybe Carol didn't. If Caesar set this up without telling Carol... Maybe he could call her, tell her about it. Urge her not to go off on him and let it happen, because Sophia was happier than he'd seen her since the whole Phillip mess. If Carol saw the glimmer in her eye, she wouldn't take this away, he knew. He'd have to convey that to her through the phone.

He glanced at the charging device. Maybe he'd call in an hour or so. She did have to deal with that asshole Aiden, so he'd wait. He rubbed his thumb over the rock, a smile ghosting over his face at the thought of hearing her voice again.

– – –

Carol sat once more in the living room of Deanna and Reg Monroe's house, having coffee this time, and they were having a decent exchange. Once the many, many, _many_ apologizes for last night were out of the way, Carol promised them it was all right. Aiden had every right—mostly—to go off on her, and she apologized for her own behavior.

"It was very impolite of me to dismiss you all like I had intended. It's...been..." she dropped off, failing to convert her thoughts into words.

"Why were you going to?" Reg inquired. "I know everything's changed, but we'd love to have you in our lives again."

"It's not you." She stared into her coffee, as if all the answers to the world's problems lie just beneath the steam, and she exhaled faintly. "I've had a rough life—rough might be too mild a word—but there are part of me I can't share with anyone. Events that...are far too devastating for me to repeatedly tell, and I need you to understand that. It's not me keeping you in the dark; it's me...physically being unable to put these memories into words again."

Deanna watched Carol's eyes contract with sorrow and rue, and her heart simply shattered. She knew Carol's pain was similar to theirs, but it led down a bitter path; an agony they had come close to knowing but were yanked out of because she came back to them. Carol hadn't been so blessed.

"You don't have to explain," she asserted. "We understand. We just...want to know who you are now, know who our granddaughter is."

"Sophia...would love to meet you." She lifted her eyes. "I have an adopted daughter too, Mika. She's a year younger than Sophia, but I'm sure she'd like to meet you too. She's a bit shy, but she's very sweet."

"That's great." Reg smiled.

"Of course I need to talk to Aiden first. I don't want him around my daughters with his...attitude."

"He hasn't had the easiest time." Deanna placed her cup of coffee on the tray and knotted her fingers together. "He always throws himself headfirst into all the wrong things. It's not entirely his fault. We've been trying to help him work out the anger and resentment, but...it's been taxing. He isn't the most cooperative person, as you can imagine."

"I just want to talk to him. We might be able to work it out."

They exchanged a look, Reg gave a nod and turned his gaze back to Carol. He told her where she could find Aiden, where he spent most of his weekends, and she nodded. They chatted a bit more, Carol browsed a few photo albums with them, learning about her childhood. It was strange how different they were from Gloria. Their holidays were spent in such varying ways, as were birthdays and family trips. She could draw a line between her two childhoods, and she was okay with that. They didn't have to collide. They didn't have to be the same girl. They could peacefully coexist inside of her without ever touching. They were parts of her, whispers of who she was now, but still lingering there, clumsy redheads with dreams too big and hopes too high. She would have to work through where they fit with who she was today, but it was doable. It was fun to see herself in such a different light. It reminded her of things she had long forgotten, things she scratched out and decided she couldn't have, things she wanted and daydreamed of. Foggy as they were, some pieces flitted back, and it warmed her more than it ached. It was a good sign. One of the better ones she's gotten in her life. There were still...possibilities. Still things she could experience, things that no one could stop her from doing. Terrifying as it was, she discovered it was far more invigorating.

Subsequent to two tight embraces and a tearful goodbye, Carol drove to where she could find her...little brother. It was a beautiful park, stocked with life and trees; a good place to lose yourself and the world and dive into your thoughts. There were no wonders in her mind as to why he would drift here to be alone. If she grew up here, she might seek refuge in the trees and the shade. It would be a haven from the world. A world she never had a chance to know, so perhaps she wouldn't need the refuge. Who can say? It's a haven for a child who never had a chance to live.

She meandered the park, losing herself in the warm sunlight and the crisp air. She knew there was no easy way to locate Aiden. He wouldn't come if she called to him or rang his phone. He was avoiding her and his family, so there was only one solution. She would have to do what he was doing, step into his shoes and stumble upon him. Besides it was a lovely day.

She found a path and walked it, inhaling the spring air, and she remembered how many walks she and Sam went on when he was still a baby. Spring and fall walks were his favorite. He loved the leaves and how they sometimes crunched if you stepped on them. He felt bad when he was a toddler, because he thought he hurt them, but once she explained it to him, he loved it. Such a gentle child.

The usual twinge settled over her lungs, and she swallowed with difficulty, smiling despite the sorrow. She knew he was in a better place, and she would see him one day, hopefully. She had her daughters to think of now. Sam's little sisters. He must be looking out for them from Heaven. Him and Rick both. God knew if they were here, Sophia and Mika wouldn't able to take two steps without them. Big brother Sam. That thought warmed her. _Well, now it was big brother Carl._ He and Sophia don't share a drop of blood, but they're family. They should meet.

She chuckled to herself at that. Sophia had quite a bit of family of hers to meet: Gloria, the Monroes, the Walshes, and of course Michonne and Andre. Gosh, when was the last time she saw Andre? It'd been too long. For him and for Judith. She need to pay them a visit, one where she was in her right mind, could truly enjoy herself and their company. When she got back, she and the girls would take a few days and see them, meet their new extended family. Sophia would like that. She hoped her daughter would anyhow. She might also feel overwhelmed. Maybe not introduce her to the Martinez horde. God knew Carol was still recovering. Andrea too.

"Always with the smile."

She halted at his voice and met his glare. "Aiden."

"Carol." He stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket. "What the hell are you doing here? This is the one place free of you. Get away from me."

"No."

"That wasn't a request." He started up the path.

"I want to talk to you." She followed. "What's your problem with me?"

He threw his head back and laughed humorlessly. "Do you have to ask? I thought we went over this at our little family dinner. Or that piss poor attempt at a family dinner."

"Why are you livid with me? And don't start with that bullshit from last night. You've been pissed at me for longer than a day."

"We could spend all day on why I hate you." He spun around. "And why I love you."

She stopped walking. "Love me?"

"Well, duh, you're my big sister. Of course I love you. And I hate you too, so let's focus on that, because I feel that more than love right now. God, just looking at your face..." He ran a hand down his jaw. "Christ."

"My face?"

"Yeah, that annoying, arrogant, I can read you just by the way your brush your fucking teeth face." He waved a hand over it. "You looked just like that when you were a kid, did you know that?"

"I didn't know I looked like that now, but I've seen pictures, so...I can work it out."

He shook his head. "Wow, even the tone matches. Impressive, detective, impressive. Did you, like, practice in front of a mirror?"

She rolled her eyes. "Are we going to have an actual conversation?"

"Sure. Where do you get off?"

"...excuse me?"

"You and that icy facade shit. You use that for criminals? And past family members?"

"I was trying to protect myself, and yes, I do use it when I interrogate criminals, like yourself."

"Ex. I've straightened myself up. And hey, I'm over my parental issues. Now there's just you."

"What exactly pisses you off? That I'm alive? Or that I waited so long to come back?"

"I don't know! It all just infuriates me!" He threw his arms up and sneered. "Dad never found you! Not one of those goddamn leads went anywhere! And Mom? Mom...looked when she wasn't a bawling, drunken mess. No one found you, but...you were a few states away. You were—you were—And it's infuriating! He went to New York once! He fucking went here, and...he came back alone. God, you—and he—It's like a joke that keeps on giving."

"He went to New York? Why?"

"Some girl was beaten and left in a hospital, but...she ran or something." He shrugged. "Or social services got there first." She shifted uncomfortably, and he gawked. "That was you? That—holy shit, he almost found you."

"I suppose so."

"Wait, you were beaten?" He frowned. "Dad...wouldn't give us details, but he was pretty... You were...beaten? Like...almost to death? Why?"

"I don't remember any of it," she confessed. "It's behind me."

"Did you leave against medical advice?" She nodded. "Why would you do that?"

"I was terrified! I was in some sterile hospital _alone_ , and I didn't know how I got there or what was going on, and I couldn't..." She faltered. "I run, okay? It's what I did as a kid. It's all I knew."

"Dad got that call a couple months after we lost you. I can assume you met Gloria after that?" His tone was gentle, like she was a fragile bird he had to protect.

"Yeah, I met Gloria shortly after. She took me in, adopted me, raised me and so forth. There was likely some...fudging in my adoption, given I was considered missing, but she's my mother regardless."

"No, she's not."

"Yes, she is," Carol snapped. "She comforted me when I had nightmares! She made me soup when I was sick! She lectured me when I misbehaved! She took me to church, brought me presents on my birthday and on holidays! She clothed me, loved me, taught me respect and right from wrong! She is my mother in every sense of the word!" She calmed herself and lowered her voice, because she was actually yelling at him. "Deanna and Reg are kind, but I come from a single parent home. I come from a shabby neighbor filled with kids who play stick ball, even in the rain. I was raised the same way my brother Caesar and my sister Karen were raised. I chose Williams, because I didn't want to people to confuse me and my brother in the academy—I didn't want him stealing my credit as the good Martinez—but I am a Martinez. Don't tell me I'm not. You don't know me."

"You're right. I don't know you, but you don't know me. You went through hell, and I went through hell. Mom, Dad, Spence—all went through hell. They've managed to cope, but I haven't. I'm still staggering along, always behind." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "I'm the screw up of the family, the black sheep, and I'm used to it. It's part of me, and they know it. They've lived it, but you haven't, and I don't know where I stand with you. Ex-criminal? Little brother? Asshole? Stranger? I dunno. I can't even guess, but..." He bowed his head and remained mute for about a minute. "You didn't deserve last night. I'm sorry for that."

"Me too."

"So, what, do we start over?"

"Unless you want to go from here?"

"It's not a horrible start," he admitted. "I've had worse."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, this guy name Fish who beat the shit out of me in prison. My second time in, he laughed at me, said I had guts and had my back. Then I guess I stepped out of line, and he handed me my ass again." He blew out a sigh. "He was a jackass. I got him on contraband before I was released. God, the look on his face was perfect."

She smiled at the joy in his eyes. It was the first time she'd seen it since they met, and she set a hand on his arm. "Let's go from here then."

He nodded. "So, I got a niece?"

"Two, actually."

"Great. Why the hell didn't you have any boys? Three nieces, and one of 'em hates sports. Maybe I'll get lucky, and one of yours will like..." He noticed a flash of pain in her eyes and winced when he realized why. It wasn't exactly brain surgery. "You...lost your son? Uh, you don't want to tell me. It's fine."

"Sam," she whispered. "That...was his name."

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't know, and you didn't kill him, so don't be sorry. It's...not okay, but I've come to terms with it. Some days more, some days less, but I'm doing my best." He bobbed his head in understanding. "Don't tell Reg and Deanna. Or Spencer. It's...not a secret, but I can't...open that wound again."

"It's your past."

"Thank you."

He gestured to the path. "There's a good spot to sit further down. You can...tell me about this Gloria. My nieces too."

"Okay." She fell into step beside him. "If you tell me what the hell you did to land in prison twice. And I do mean details."

He chuckled. "Okay, but tell me this: you married?"

"No."

"Dating?"

"No."

"So, their dad isn't in the picture?"

"Mika is adopted," Carol hastily clarified. "And Sophia's father is in the picture. We're just not together."

"Why not? You don't love him?"

"No. No, it's just _really_ complicated."

"Is he...the same guy you had your son with?"

"No. He's...passed too."

He seemed to kick himself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to poke. I was just... Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Don't worry about it." She hugged her arms, her lips twisting in a teasing grin, and she peered at Aiden. "So, tell me about prison, klepto." She could sense they would have a bumpy relationship, but Aiden didn't have as much fire as he let on. He was a good person, just looking out for his family, unable to swallow lies and false faces. She related. It would be nice to get to know him, her baby brother. It would appear she had yet another person to look after. He wouldn't be thrilled if he knew she would be keeping tabs on him, but it would for his own good. _We Martinezes don't let family fall through the cracks_ , she reminded herself. Gloria had told her that after Karen's funeral, when she began to pull away. She never forgot it, just never had to employ it for a while now.

– – –

Rosita swallowed her nerves and marched into Michonne's office. She had spent week after week stressing about this, and she wasn't going to waste one more second on anxiety and worst case scenarios. She had inspected every inch of this, knew every outcome, and she was prepared for whatever verdict Michonne had come to. There was nothing more Rosita could do to prove herself. She was guilty, and if she had to pay the price, so be it. She didn't regret any of it, save for the kidnapping of Carol, Daryl and Sophia, Carol and Daryl being shot and beaten as well. She did regret that. Immensely.

"Good. You're here." Michonne scrawled her signature. "You don't have to sit. This won't take long."

She nodded. Maybe orange wasn't so terrible a color to wear. So much for her charm.

"You're cleared," Michonne declared. "We need your expertise on the Roberts' case. Lerner and Martinez will catch you up to speed."

Rosita was floored. "What?"

Michonne smiled. "Get your ass to work, Espinosa. We're short without Williams, and I want this bastard. Do you understand that?"

Rosita returned her smile. "Yes, ma'am."

"Keep your nose clean," she called before Rosita was out the door. "Good to have you back."

Rosita grinned and met Caesar by his desk, taking his coffee and flipping through the file. "So, what do we have?"

"A coffee thief." He glared. "Give it."

She pinched his cheek. "You're so cute. I mean, about the case. Catch me up."

"A double homicide. Mother and son, Toni and Andi Roberts, were killed in their home on Tuesday night. Their alarm sounded two hours after the murders took place, and the husband looks good for it. He has both motive, and opportunity."

"Motive being?"

"Life insurance," Dawn answered. "A million on Toni. He took it out a year after they were married."

"But why kill the boy?" Rosita crossed her legs. "His kid?"

"No, Andi's from a previous relationship. His father is currently in Africa with his wife of two years, sends the occasional letter, but he isn't involved beyond that. Everyone said the husband, Frank, was never fond of the boy, kept comparing him to his birth dad."

"That would get annoying." She raised her eyes from the file. "What's Frank's alibi?"

"He was at his brother's, watching the game," Casear read from the report. "Brother was blackout drunk, doesn't remember anything. Lost some money on the game, got pissed, drank the night away."

"Why the delay in the system?"

"That's why you're here." Ceasar waved to the Roberts' computer. "She had cameras in her house along with the system, but the company can't account for the missing footage and delay, so have at it. I'm going to pick up lunch and make sure my wife has eaten."

"You know what I like." Rosita set the coffee down and spun the chair around to the treat they'd left untouched for her. "But bring me back another coffee."

"Cold and minty, like your soul?"

"Exactly." She smirked.

His lips mirrored hers, and he chuckled. "It's good to have you back, and you owe me seven bucks for the coffee you stole."

Her smirked turned sardonic. "Sure. I'm reaching into my purse to pay you back right this second."

He flashed a blinding smile and sauntered out, saying, "You can't ruin my mood, Espinosa! My wife's having my baby!"

Dawn dropped in the chair at the end of the desk. "When does Carol get back?"

"I think either tomorrow or Monday. Why?"

"Because I can't take another four months with him like before. All he talks about is the baby, and it was cute at first, but now I kinda wanna put his head through a wall."

Rosita giggled. "Oh, it'll only get worse."

She moaned into her palms. "It can get _worse?"_

"So much worse."

"What if I call Carol and say it's an emergency?"

"You poor desperate girl." She smacked her lips. "I have to get back to work, but hey, it's only twenty-four hours. Or forty-eight. Besides with his father-in-law in town, he'll be out by six."

"You think?" The hope in her eyes brought laughter rolling up Rosita's throat, and she had to choke it down and nodded. "Oh, thank God. I knew it wouldn't like before, but these past couple days... I don't know how you or Carol do it."

She listened to the hum of the desktop as it roared to life, sipping more of Caesar's triple Americano, and she grinned. It was good to be back.

––

Carol dug through her bag, locating her phone under it, and she answered it, cradling it on her shoulder as she finished buttoning her blouse. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Oh, hi." She sat down on the bed, pausing in her rush. "What's going on? Are the girls all right? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, they're good. I'm good. They're out with Andrea and Caesar."

"What for?" She finished with her buttons and tucked her locket underneath the collar, slipping in earrings.

"He's takin' 'em over to your mom's for Sunday dinner tomorrow." He held his breath and blurted, "Sophia's really excited about it. She wouldn't stop talking about it the entire time she was here. Mika seems happy about it too. Kids were all ready when Andrea came to pick them up. Gloria's gonna show 'em how to cook some dessert, and they're going to church. Sophia's never been. You can imagine why."

She lifted her foot to adjust her sock inside her boot, zipping it up. "Mom's always been good with that—cooking and stories. I love her stories. She...could sooth my nightmares with a few tales from her childhood. Most of them, I'm sure, she made up, but they were very sweet. She'll be good with the girls. I just...wish I could be there."

"You're not pissed?"

"Why would I be?" She reached for her other boot. "It'll be good for her and Mom. Mom's been bugging me to bring her over, and now Caesar has appeased her, so she should stop calling me every day."

"Would you...mind if I went?"

She stumbled, her foot slamming into the floor with her boot, and she transferred her phone to her palm. "You—want to meet my mom?"

He heard a thud through the phone and his lips drew a line. "Do you not want me to? It's just that...Sophia wanted me to go with her, and Caesar said he didn't mind if I tagged along. I think he said, "the more the merrier"."

"Dale must be in town. He's trying to avoid a fight between him and Mom. We _are_ a Catholic family, and Dale...does believe, but not as strictly as Gloria, so they butt heads." She zipped up her boot and checked her watch, seeing she had a few minutes. "Are you sure you want to meet her? I mean, I don't understand why you would want to, aside from Sophia asking."

"I don't have to go, just tell Sophia the doctors vetoed. If you're uncomfortable with it, it's all right." He couldn't tell her his reason. It might not make sense to her, or she might presume it meant more than it did. He wanted to hear the stories of young Carol and see where she lived, where she grew up to be the woman she was today. He wanted to see what her childhood room looked like, what books she read, what movies she watched. He wanted to see that innocent side of her. Before the anguish of losing Sam and Rick, maybe catch a glimpse of her before she lost her sister too.

"I'm not... It's just my mother will...make assumptions—about us." She dragged a hand through still damp curls. "It's complicated, you and I. I don't want her to know how we met."

A lump formed in his throat, and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip. "Oh."

She sighed. "You kidnapped me, Daryl. And she thinks it was Merle, and she can't forgive him for that. If she finds out it was you, she'll disown you and probably have me tossed into a basin of holy water to cleanse me or something." She chuckled nervously. "I'm being serious here."

"I get it, Carol. I won't go."

"No, that's not what—"

"I gotta go, ain't supposed to use these in a hospital anyway." He hung up.

"Daryl?" She stared at the blinking numbers on her phone and groaned into her palm. "Goddamn it." _Sorry, Mom._

"Carol?" It was Spencer.

She turned her phone on silent and hopped up. "Coming." She would worry about that later. She didn't have time now. She had one last dinner with the Monroes, and she would decide which holiday she and the girls were coming down for. She would have to call Gloria and see if she was all right with it. Carol promised to spend more time with her. So forty-six and still needing Mom's permission. Yeah, that's not awkward.

As she closed the door and met Spencer's embrace, she made a note to talk to Daryl. She had to bend the truth when it came to her mom, and she did want them to meet, but not like this. She wanted to be there. _Damn it, Caesar, you pushy pendejo._ She hoped she wouldn't stress about it too much tonight. She already had to tell her mother she might spend Thanksgiving in another state with her grandchildren, and that was demanding enough. God give her strength, because that wasn't going to be a pretty conversation.


	32. The Difference

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

"Just pick whichever one you like best," Andrea told the girls. "Whatever you feel prettiest in, okay? But appropriate."

Keira, Mika and Sophia roamed the story, Andrea kept an eye on them but stuck close to her daughter, trying to help her find something to wear. It wasn't fair to only buy Sophia and Mika something, and Andrea wanted them all to get dressed up and look their best. Sophia was meeting her grandmother for the first time, and she should make a good first impression. If she felt pretty and good about herself, it'd be a great first meeting. Andrea knew from experience, so new clothes.

Mika spotted a dress she wanted straightaway. It was adorable, pink with a thin layer of white lace. She would looked a little angel in it. Andrea could tell she was half in love with the outfit already, and she chuckled, holding it for her after she tried it out. Her smile warmed Andrea's heart, hoping the girl was feeling more at home here with them. She couldn't imagine being in her shoes, and she hoped they could make her feel like family. Gloria would without a doubt welcome the girl and make her feel at home within ten seconds. She had an air about her, and Andrea was grateful for it now more than ever.

Sophia showed off a white dress with a black flowers on the waist. It was cute, a little longer on her, but the girl was tall for her age. She would probably tower over Mika and Carol as she grew older. She might be taller than Daryl. It wouldn't surprise her. Sam would have pretty tall himself, so of course his baby sister would be tall. Andrea could see how thrilled she was about buying the dress and this dinner. Like it became real only now. It was precious. Andrea only wished Carol would be there. Caesar was tossing Sophia in between their parents, and she agreed, but Carol should be there to make introductions. It was only fair. Sophia was her daughter. Damn it. Why did she feel guilty now when there was nothing more to be done?

Keira settled on a teal and white floral dress. Andrea was pleased she found it quickly, because she had to use the bathroom. The dress would make her even more adorable, and her little cheeks would be pinched by every relative they bumped into. It's like every Martinez in New York attended the same church. Thankfully for them, or they'd be screwed. If any of them went to the church Caesar and Andrea "attended", word would undoubtedly get back to Gloria, and they would be in for a lecture. Andrea wouldn't understand most of it, because Gloria would speak in both English and Spanish, a language Andrea was not fluent in, despite Caesar's attempt to teach her. And Keira.

She wanted Keira to learn, because half of her family spoke Spanish, and it was in her blood, but not herself. She would leave translation to her husband. It kept him by her side through family BBQ. He liked to run off and play poker with his cousins, or whatever the hell else they did aside from poker and ditch her with his aunts and cousins. She barely understood them, and they tried to make her cook. Cooking was fine, but she had a comfort zone, and they shattered it. Every second they shattered it, and Caesar was nowhere in sight. She had to reply on Gloria during those times. Thank God for Gloria Martinez, otherwise she would have killed Caesar a long time ago. Abandoning her as he did. Jackass.

– – –

"You ready?" Caesar adjusted the button on his shirt, listening for Daryl's yes or no through the door. He had kept the outfit simple, and he had been given a butt load of demands from Daryl's doctor. It made ducking out before the service was over not worth it. He already had to deal with his mother's scolding, and now he had this little man of a doctor barking at him. How lovely.

"Do I need the wheelchair?" Daryl grumbled, opening the door and wheeling out of the room. "I can walk."

"Yes, but overexertion." He grasped the handles and pushed him toward the elevator. "Don't worry. You're in good hands."

"Tsh, sure."

"So, how are you feeling tonight? You're about to meet my mother. Carol's mother." He pressed the button to the parking garage. "Nervous?"

"Why should I be? I'm only going 'cause I told Sophia I'd be there." He picked at the new shirt Andrea had bought for him. "Ain't like we're gonna meet again."

"You're not at all worried about the impression you'll make on her?" Caesar scoffed. "I know you love my sister, and Mom's good opinion on men for her little girl is kind of a big deal. Rick didn't even get approval, but don't tell anybody I said that."

"Why does everybody keep insistin' I love Carol?" he growled, although his throat was tight.

"Because Rosita and I work together, and we talk about you guys. She told me how you were after." He crossed his arms. "Guess Carol leaves quite the impression."

Daryl shook his head. "You don't know shit."

"I know my sister hasn't been with anyone since you, and I know...she was happy her first day back on the job. I hadn't seen her smile like that since...before. It would have taken more than just good sex to put that smile on her face. If she looked like that... Well, I know how you look at her now."

"How the hell do I look at her?" he demanded. "I look at her like she's a person! I look at Rosita the same way!"

"No, you don't." He chuckled. "You look at her like I look at my wife, and it's painful that Carol hasn't figure out your feelings yet. I suppose she's not good at reading love. After what happened with Rick, I wouldn't want to read into looks either."

Daryl gritted his teeth and blocked Caesar out the entire way to the car and then the entire drive. Eveyone and their opinions on his feelings and Carol's past. He didn't know what the hell he felt, if anything. Who were they to come and say it was love? He felt something for her in the past, but the past was the past. Carol had moved on, and so had he. They were vastly different people, and they didn't fit into each others lives that way anymore.

In Carol's eyes, he was simply an excuse to drink a couple more times. He was someone to warm her bed, and that was it. He was a sperm donor who came back and risked her life trying to save a child she didn't know was hers. He couldn't call himself anything to her and mean it. They weren't friends. They weren't family. They never would be, not beyond Sophia.

Shit, she had yet to forgive him for putting Sophia in harm's way. She didn't need to say it in words, he knew how she felt. He had seen it in her eyes when Phillip told them the truth. Loathing. Regret. Enraged. All for him. She wanted to burn him from the earth for what he let happen to their little girl, and while he'd felt similar when she got the news, he hadn't thought about it much then. There were more pressing matters than self-depreciation. He'd been thinking back now that he had time, and he knew those feelings lingered. Carol could hold a grudge, and it wouldn't be shocking to learn she hated him for it. She had all but said it when they fought. Being beaten trying to find the sniper didn't change her emotions, simply...put them aside. They would return. He knew they would.

He picked at his fingernail and soundlessly sighed. He could have loved her. He knew he could have loved her, and she could have loved him, but it wasn't the right time. He had an empire to maintain, to further, and she had a sniper to hunt, to arrest. Had things been different, had they been different people, they could have been happy. They could have raised Sophia together like a normal family, had another child or two perhaps. They could have gone to church and done Sunday dinner with the family. They could have gotten married and grown old together. If only things had been different.

But they weren't. Carol was a homicide detective. He was an ex-criminal. They weren't together. They never would be. They had a small semblance of a normal family with Sophia and Mika, and that was all they'd have. He'd get his strength back, he'd move out, and they'd work out a schedule for Sophia. That was what their future held. So people telling him he felt this or that was pointless. Carol felt nothing. Carol didn't even want her mother to know him, because of who he was. _Who he is_. It was understandable, and he would keep his distance from the woman, smile and listen. That was all he was good for anymore. Putting on a show. His entire adulthood had been just that, and he performed the steps well.

Sinking himself further into a shit mood, Daryl returned his attention to reality as Caesar pushed him through the doorway to Gloria's home. The others had yet to arrive, so it was just the two of them. He was wheeled to the living room, his eyes falling on picture after picture of young Caesar and Karen and Carol.

There was one picture of the three of them, all red nosed and laughing on a snowy day. They were in the yard, snow caked on their boots and pants, arms around each other, grinning from ear to ear. They were the picture of joy, and it seeped out of the picture, eating away his mood. The pale ginger's smile capturing whatever piece of his heart he tried to lock away from her. Son of a bitch.

"That was a good day." Caesar plucked the picture from the table and examined it. "It was our first snow day with Carol. Well, not the first, but the first where she was willing to have fun. We had a blast, snowball fights and just..cramming each others jackets with snow. Pissed Mom off, but...we didn't care. It was the best day. First time Carol laughed without hiding it."

"Hiding it?" Daryl tilted his head to the side. "Why would she hide her laughter?"

"Kid thought if she was happy...something or someone would come and steal it away from her. She would smile and laugh for about a second then...put on this face. Just like the walls were up, you know?" He shook his head. "We just wanted her to be relaxed and at home, and when she finally got there..."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." He placed the picture down and swallowed. "You thirsty? No booze in the house, save for what Mom uses for recipes, but there's plenty of other stuff."

"I'm good for now."

"All right, let me tell you some rules." Caesar's eyes flickered to his. "You don't sit on the sidelines. You don't reject a drink, and use manners, and feel at home. Only you're with family, so your ass better not mope. And the sidelines things will be impossible when Mom gets here. She'll force you to join in, and if you decline, she'll guilt you into joining in. It's just going to happen, so prepare yourself. No one can ignore the look Mom gives. I've tried my entire life. It doesn't work."

Daryl gulped. Maybe he should have stayed at the hospital.

"Daddy!" Sophia bolted over to him and hugged him carefully. "You're here!"

Gloria and Andrea showed the girls where their coats go, Caesar greeted his wife with a kiss and his mom with an apologetic hug for leaving early, and he winked at Mika, who looked a tad uneasy. She blushed and smiled a little, and he kissed Keira's forehead, leading them to the living room.

"Look at my new dress! Aunt Andrea bought it for me. Isn't it pretty?" She twirled for him, beaming from ear to ear. "Do you like it?"

"It's real pretty." He smiled back at her. "Did you have a good time at church?"

She nodded. "I wanna go again next Sunday, if we can."

"You'll have to talk to your mom about that."

"Speaking of, where is my daughter?" Gloria's gaze shifted from her daughter-in-law to her son. "She didn't even call to let me know she wouldn't be here."

"She didn't." Andrea's lips drew a line. "That's not like her."

"I know. Usually _I_ don't call." Caesar pulled Keira's curled hair up in a ponytail.

Gloria waved it away. "She's a grown woman. She can take care of herself. It'll be all right. I'll call her in an hour." She zeroed in on the man in the wheelchair. "You must be Daryl."

Sophia stopped gushing about church when Gloria spoke to her dad. "Yeah, this is my dad." She gripped his hand.

Gloria's smile was motherly and kind. "Welcome to my home. I'm Gloria Martinez. Carol and Caesar's mother." She offered her hand.

"Daryl Dixon." He accepted it and shook it heartily. "Sophia's dad, like she said."

"I heard about your...accident. If you need anything, let me know, all right? There's no need for you to be in pain or famished or anything because of anxiety or pigheadedness. I had my fill of them raising my children, and I will swat you with a wooden spoon." She playfully smacked his arm, and he chuckled. "This is your home too."

"Thank you."

"My nieta looks just like her mother at that age." She wrapped an arm around Sophia and rubbed her back. "That girl was almost the death of me. Just when I thought Caesar was going to kill me, the Lord sent me that girl..."

Casear rolled his eyes. "I was not that bad!"

"You almost killed me!" she repeated. "Thank God Carol matured and straightened up her act. I don't know what I would've done if she hadn't."

Andrea giggled, and he sent her a glare. "I'm going to use the bathroom." She headed upstairs.

Gloria chuckled. "Caesar, are you going to help your poor old mother with dinner?"

"Poor old mother?" He shook his head and bent down beside his daughter. "See how she tries to guilt me?" Keira snickered, and he hugged her. "I think this one wants to help you, Mom."

"Throwing your work off on a seven-year-old? Ain't that a bit...pathetic?" Daryl mused.

"Why don't you help her?" Caesar asserted. "You have hands, and it can be a learning experience."

"Nonsense." Gloria ushered her granddaughter over and out of her father's arms. "I'll teach my granddaughters how to cook, and you can take the trash out before you leave. Would you like that?"

"Yeah." Sophia nodded, taking her grandmother's other hand.

"Yes!" Keira grinned.

"I always do." He straightened up and spotted Mika in the living room with them. "Mika, what are you doing?"

"Looking around." She knotted her fingers together. "Should I be doing something else?"

"Yeah, Mom just asked you to help cook."

"But she said her granddaughters." She smiled nervously. "I'm not her granddaughter."

Caesar bent down to be at eye level and gripped her shoulders. "Unfortunately, you are her granddaughter. There is no escaping this fate. I am sorry. I tried to protect you, but...I couldn't. Good luck in there, kiddo."

She stared. "What?"

"You heard the man," Dale echoed from behind Caesar. "Go help your grandma in the kitchen."

Mika smiled to herself and hurried to the kitchen. "I can help."

"Of course you can, bella." Gloria grinned at her and fitted her into the apron. "You three are my little helpers tonight. If you happen to drop anything, we'll feed it to Caesar. He'll never know."

They laughed, Gloria assigned them to simple tasks to help with dinner, giving Keira the easiest as she was practically still a baby, and she smiled at the sight of the girls filling her kitchen. She had only had Keira before, but now she had Sophia and Mika. They were all so precious, and she was elated to have them as her granddaughters. Soon, there'd be another little one. He or she couldn't help out, but that didn't matter. They would be a welcome sight.

––

Andrea watched Daryl and her father discussing whatever was playing on the TV while Caesar sulked in the corner, and she laughed before approaching him. She would give Gloria a hand, but she wanted to make sure the boys would be all right out here. If things progressed this way, Caesar would get off his rump and actually help his mother cook. That hadn't happened since Andrea was too pregnant to help, and Carol had paperwork to catch up on. She was relieved to not be surrounded by all those scents, but she wouldn't be relieved this time. Dale was her dad, and Caesar was her husband. They should be able to be in the same room together for God's sake.

"Why are you over here?" She wrapped her arms around him, peeking over his shoulder at him.

"I'm calling Carol?"

"Your phone is in the car. Try again."

"I don't know what to talk to Dale about, okay? I can't chat with someone who hates me."

"He doesn't," she asserted. "You are family to him. You need to cut this out. I'm sure our baby has picked up on the tension you two are emitting."

"Andrea, please."

"You know the rules of this household. I didn't make them. Your mother did, so you need to shape up. I'm going to help your mom, and when we sit down for dinner, you two better be best friends, or damn close to it."

"I can help Mom."

"You will, but not before you and Dad are back on friendly terms."

"We were never on friendly terms."

"Then you'd better get busy." She winked at him and sauntered through the dining room to the kitchen, finding her girls hard at work. "What can I do, Gloria?"

"Give me a hand, eh? The girls can only do so much."

"Okay." She slipped on the last apron and moved to stand beside her mother-in-law. "Let's hope the guys don't kill each other before dinner's ready."

She smirked. "Hope won't do much. Want to pray before we get started?"

"We might have to."

––

"What are you watching?" Caesar had tried to take asylum in the kitchen, but Mom booted him out when he spent twenty minutes to reach the fridge and pull out a cherry flavored Dr. Pepper. So now he was stuck conversing with Daryl and Dale. Just fucking fantastic. The silent one and the one who was pissed at him.

"Tryin' to decipher what's going on." Daryl pointed to the screen. It was all in Spanish. "Give us a hand?"

He chuckled. "Sure. Lemme see the remote." He caught it from Daryl and flicked it back to English. "See, I'm good for some things."

Daryl snorted. "Sure."

Caesar cut a look to his father-in-law and sipped his drink, not sure how to broach the subject, especially with Daryl there. He couldn't nod him out of the room, because he might need a witness if Dale tried to kill him.

Okay, Dale wouldn't kill him. He was a good man. He didn't have a cruel bone in his body. He just had _that_ look and his morals. They used to get along well enough, but after what happened with the Governor and his men, his opinion of Caesar changed. Perhaps he lost all respect for Caesar as he made wife and child a target and abandoned them to the wolves. It wasn't as if he knew the Governor's men were inside or outside of his house that night. If he had known, he'd have thrown Andrea and Keira in the car and gotten the hell out of there the moment he thought he saw one of them. He would have done things differently had he known. He wouldn't have fought with her, said those things and stormed out. He would have demanded she come down to the station with him, her temper and irritation with him be damned.

Wait, Dale had both his girls trained to defend themselves. He knew Andrea was a fighter. She had one hell of a temper, and she knew how to fight hand-to-hand. Hell, she came down to show one of the rookies how to defend themselves. Michonne had insisted when their usual guy canceled or died or whatever. She performed on hell of a seminar, asked him to assist her then proceeded to hand him his ass in front of everybody, and she tried not to laugh at him, but of course she did. A few of the guys gave him crap for it, all in good fun, and he was sure a few of them obtained a crush on his wife that day too. He made a point to kiss her or keep an arm around her waist when she came to visit the station, much to her aggravation. He tried to sway her, arguing she could handle a minute of him crowding her since she gave him bruises. It was a good thing Carol interrupted their talk when she did, or his body might have broken the glass in Observation when she chucked him through it. Andrea was incredibly strong when she was angry.

He pressed his lips together. Dale knew Andrea was the furthest thing from a damsel, and while Caesar had said his enemies wouldn't touch her or Keira, the Governor wasn't exactly his enemy. He was Daryl's and Carol's. They were just bait to lure them out of hiding when they broke free. Anything could have happened to them, unspeakable things a few therapy sessions and reassurances couldn't undo. He knew every possible torture device the Governor used in the past, and he knew what he could have done to his wife and his little girl. He knew, and he had nightmares about it. It was over. The fucker was behind bars, but...

And then there's Dale. The cold shoulder he was giving him, the looks and the "talks" with Andrea. He knew Dale was never fond of him, and their kidnapping only cemented that, but he could at least have the guts to talk to him about. He didn't like Caesar, fine. That was fine. They didn't have to like each other, but he had no right to talk to Andrea about it. Probably trying to convince her to leave him for her own good, for Keira's well being. He was likely trying to beguile her back to Florida where he could keep an eye on her and marry her off to some business man he knew. It honestly wouldn't stun him. Well, it would a bit. Maybe. Fuck, who knew. Dale might have come down here to knock Andrea over the head and take her and Keira back with him.

He clenched his fists and shot off the couch, clenching his jaw. "Dale, could I talk to you?"

"Sure, son. What's on your mind?"

He almost commanded Daryl to leave the room, but Daryl was already gone. He had left as Caesar sat there stewing, the vein in his neck twitching more and more with each passing second. Daryl didn't know what his problem was, but he knew angry men. He didn't want to be there when Caesar blew up. He had gone to help the girls with dinner. He wasn't a good cook, but he'd rather struggle along in there than awkwardly remain in the living room.

"What the hell did I do to you?" He hadn't meant to yell, but he couldn't help the volume of his voice.

"What?" Dale gaped at him.

He huffed. "Where the hell do you get off? Huh? You just—"

"All right, calm down." Dale was on his feet. "Let's take this outside. I don't think the girls need to hear this. Or your mother." He was shocked Andrea hadn't come out when he opened his mouth to see what was wrong. It was best they keep it that way. She didn't need this today.

Caesar stomped out the door and to the steps, Dale trailed behind him, tugging the door closed, and Caesar whirled around.

"Why don't you just come out and say it?"

"Say what?" Dale demanded at his son-in-law.

"You know exactly what!" Caesar exploded. "You just come down here and send me glares and whisper to my wife and keep your distance from me like I'm some—some plague, like all I do is cause destruction! I get it, all right? I get every fine grain of it, but who the hell says _you_ get to judge me? Huh? You, of all people? You ain't exactly a saint! It wasn't like I did it on purpose! I never would—never!" He couldn't form a proper sentence, but he knew Dale understood the gist of it.

Dale's narrow eyes met Caesar's burning ones. "What the hell did I miss? What are you talking about, son? Judge you? Why would I judge you?"

"Because of what happened to them!" He thrust his hand to the window that displayed the living room. "Because of what the Governor did! I know I screwed up, all right? I know what could have happened! I know every terrible thing he's done in the past, and I know what he did to women—what he let his men to do them to make some twisted point. I didn't have to work his case to know how sadistic and perverted he is! I have every one of his victims' faces seared into my brain, all right? So believe me when I say I know, Dale. An—and I don't need you to be here, all righteous and shit, trying to do God only knows what! I get it. You don't like me. That's fine, but don't you dare—don't you fucking dare—try to judge me. I didn't know what would happen when I left."

"You think I blame you for what happened to my daughter and granddaughter?"

"Well, don't you?" he snapped.

"No, I blame the men who broke into your home and abducted them." He climbed down the stairs to close the space between them. "Caesar, I never once blamed you. You did all you could, and they're safe now."

Caesar mouth twisted, and he shook his head. "Of course you hold me responsible."

"Why should I? Did you hand them over? Did they pay you for fighting with your wife and storming off? Did you call this Governor and insist he take your wife and child?"

Caesar glowered, grounding his teeth.

"I didn't think so. You can say I blame you until you turn blue in the face, but I don't. I never did. I was upset when Andrea told us what happened. I was furious, but they're all right. Keira's back to her old self, and Andrea's expecting." He laughed. "I'm going to have another grandchild. Why would I be miffed with you?"

"'Cause all you've done since you got here is avoid me and talk to Andrea all hushed. You haven't even spoken to me until just now."

"You haven't exactly greeted me warmly. I saw your glare when we entered your home, and I decided to let you work out whatever was eating at you. Clearly that was a mistake." He set a hand on his shoulder. "You're a good man, a good father and husband. You don't need to condemn yourself for someone else's actions. It's in the past now, and everything's okay."

"What? I—I'm not—"

"Oh, you're not? So, you didn't just bring me out here and accuse me of blaming you? Didn't just list off all the ways I'm holding you responsible for what happened to them when I never said I did?" He searched his eyes. "You can't think like that, Caesar. It was out of your hands. It doesn't make it better. It doesn't mean it won't be a problem later on, but it was never on you. You have to know that."

He averted his eyes. "Not on me? I've been hearing that a lot lately. My...my therapist tells me that every damn day we meet. "It wasn't you", "It was out of your hands", "You didn't know", "You couldn't have done anything", "Let it go". She's got a million other ones. Like she's got a list taped to her notepad or something."

"Smart woman." He squeezed his shoulder and dropped his hand. "You do need to let this go."

"Easier said than done, old man."

He chuckled. "Just because I'm not mad at you doesn't mean you can call me that."

He smirked and nodded. "You don't think it was my fault?"

"No." He leaned back. "Sometimes...bad things happen, but if you try and hold yourself accountable for it all, you're going to be crushed by it one day. You're going to have another child, and you don't need that weight. It was never yours to carry. Keira and Andrea are all right. Your sister, your niece—both fine too. You need to let this go, son."

He nodded again, clearing his throat, a sheen of tears in his obsidian eyes. "I don't know if I can, but you're right. I—Andrea and I have a kid on the way, and they don't need their dad...drowning in guilt. Keira doesn't need it either."

"It's about time you started to see the light." He smiled and nudged him with his elbow. "And about that whispering?"

He sniffed. "Yeah?"

"It's a surprise for you. I can't say any more than that, but you ought to like it."

He chuckled. "God, I'm a fool."

"Yes, you are." Dale headed back to the door. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

He smiled. "Thank you, Dale, and I—I'm sorry."

"You're welcome, Caesar." He paused. "Take a minute to calm yourself, son."

He dropped on the steps as Dale entered the house, and Dale was met by Andrea, who was wiping her hands on a cloth. She asked a question with her eyes, and he nodded, but prevented her from leaving. Caesar had things he needed to work out, and he didn't need a crowd right now. They had the rest of their lives to hover around each other, but for now, they had a dinner to cook. He led her back to the kitchen and offered a hand.

"This may be the first time I've had so much help," Gloria remarked. "You should come by every Sunday."

Dale chuckled. "I can't say I will, but I should come by more often. I can bring my wife with me."

"That would be lovely."

Andrea observed her father and mother-in-law, grinning to herself. Maybe tonight wouldn't be disastrous. Her gaze drifted to the doorway, and she hoped Caesar was all right. She had tried to see what happened when he yelled suddenly, but Gloria told her to let them sort things out. She hoped that was the right call.

––

Caesar sat there with his face buried in his palms, his broad shoulder slumped, and he kept groaning softly. He was an asshole. An assuming asshole. God, he should have bashed his head into a wall. It would have more polite than what he just did to Dale. He hoped his apology was sincere. He meant for it to be. He owed Dale more than just a few words of sorry.

"Beating yourself up won't change facts."

He blinked and bolted from the stairs, seeing who the voice belonged to, and he chuckled breathlessly. "What are you...? How are you...? I thought you were..."

"Are there ends to those sentences?" Carol strolled over to him. "It's not so shocking I came home to spend Sunday with our mother, is it? I should call more, I know, but I don't think I've been that absent."

He smirked. "How long?"

"Have I been in New York? Since this morning. How long have I been standing here? Long enough to see you attack Dale." She sucked air in through her teeth. "A bit foolish, don't you think? To go directly for the throat?"

"Yeah, I know I made an ass out of myself. I'm trying to figure out how to apologize to him. Words aren't enough."

"It'll be okay. Dale's a good guy. He understands." She seated herself on the steps. "So, what's going on with you?"

He plopped down beside her. "Another week, another layer of unnecessary guilt."

"So, I haven't missed much?" She grinned, and he laughed, pushing her away lightly. "But on a serious note, he's right. It _is_ going to crush you one day."

"It isn't that simple."

"Do you blame yourself for what happened to Sam?" Her sapphire eyes bore into his. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't pull the trigger. You didn't put the sniper on our path. You didn't do anything but cancel plans."

He said nothing.

"It's the truth. Some asshole decided Sam's time was up, and that asshole wasn't you. You kept me grounded. You and Andrea and Keira. Mom. Michonne. You guys had my back, covered for me, protected me and my daughter. We...may not always have the best luck, but that doesn't mean every crime is our fault. You have to...think about the good. If you don't, you'll end up like me." She hugged her arms. "How I was back then...isn't who you are, Caesar. Drunk, stupid, isolated. You can't afford to do that, not with your kids and Andrea. I won't let you."

"I know you won't."

"Drinking isn't an escape from your issues. It's an issue itself. It doesn't make the world better. It distorts everything, numbs it, but only for a moment. When that moment is over...you either look at yourself and come to terms with reality. Or find another bottle. And then another and another and so on and so forth until you die." She dropped her arms to her lap and rubbed her wrist, tears in her eyes, and she chewed on her bottom lip. "It'll destroy all of the good too, you know. Faces and laughter and happy memories. It'll take them away. Respect, loyalty, trust—it devours them like candy. Shame becomes a good friend. Denial too. Oh, and let's not forget need. You need more, always need more. It's never enough, and before too long...everything else, the people and family you love and need when life becomes cruel and unbearable are gone. And all you have is a bottle."

His gaze drifted to her face. "Carol..."

"So you need to let this pass," she whispered. "The rage, the guilt, the voice that tells you how much better you should have been... You need to force those emotions out, and tell the voice to shut the fuck up, because you always go in with a hundred and ten percent."

He reached over, clasped her hand and held it tightly. "Same to you."

– – –

"I should check on him." Andrea handed a cup of juice to Keira. "It's been half an hour."

"You know how my son is. He stews." Gloria shrugged a shoulder. "He'll come in when he's ready."

She sighed.

"I know you're worried, but he'll be fine." Dale set his hand over hers. "He just needs to sort his thoughts out."

"That's probably why it's taking so long," Daryl mused.

She laughed. "I'll give him five more minutes, but then I'm going out there, and neither of you are stopping me."

"Thanks for the love." Caesar leaned in the doorway. "It means so much."

"Hey." Andrea neared him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." He kissed her cheek. "Guess who I found."

"If it's your cousin Arturo, tell me I'll make him a plate, but he can't in." She leaned down toward Daryl to fill him in on why, "He's a terrible drunk. He'll spoil the mood. Last time he threw up in the doorway. Then passed out in my rose bushes."

"I'm not Arturo, but I have been a terrible drunk. I hope I can still join you." Carol stepped out from behind her brother. "It smells delicious in here, and I haven't eaten since this morning, so please may I stay?"

"Mom!" Sophia ran over and tackled her in a hug. "You're back!"

"Carol!" Mika hugged her tightly.

She laughed and wrapped her arms around them. "Hey, girls." She kissed the tops of their heads. "Oh, you look both look so beautiful."

"Aunt Andrea bought us dresses for church." Sophia removed her apron to show her mother the dress. "You like it?"

"Are you kidding? You look like a princess." She tapped her nose and turned to Mika. "We have to send a picture to Ryan. He'll won't recognize this little angel." She hugged her again.

"Are you home for good now?" Mika questioned when Carol released her.

"Yes, I'm home for good now. Well, unless the jobs takes me out of state, but then I'll be back as soon as I can."

She nodded. "You look beautiful too."

Carol beamed. "Thank you, sweetheart."

Keira had intended to wait until Mika and Sophia were done, but she grew impatient and hurried over to hug her aunt. She knew she made the right choice when Carol laughed and kissed her cheeks. Carol spoke to them briefly then rose and embraced her mother.

"It's good to have you home," Gloria murmured into her ear. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Mom." She stepped back. "I can help cook, if you want. You can tell the girls horrifyingly embarrassing stories of my childhood like I know you want to."

She chuckled and squeezed her chin. "I trust you and Caesar to cook. It's all been prepared anyway."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Caesar called.

"Come on, girls. We'll have a few snacks while they start dinner." Gloria escorted the girls to the living room, and Dale followed to hear more on how his granddaughter was doing in school.

"You should get something to eat," Caesar instructed to his wife. "Sit for a bit. You can hear awkward stories about me."

"Your entire life is an awkward story," Carol reported, leaning against the counter.

"And I've heard all of them," Andrea chimed. "I do have to call a client though, so I'll leave you three to it." She shed her apron and handed it to him.

Caesar glanced from Daryl to Carol. "I have to use the bathroom, but I'll be back to help."

Daryl swallowed and glimpsed at Carol. She had changed. It was a noticeable change as well. She looked breathtaking, clothed in fitting dark blue jeans and a flow-y hem black top. She had even wore makeup, her silver curls brushed down adorably. He wanted to kick himself for staring, but with any luck, she'd take it as him trying to figure out what to say instead of...blatantly checking her out.

"How was your trip?" He picked at the armrest of the wheelchair.

"It was good." She wore a soft smile. "I needed it."

"That's good. I hoped it help." He glanced at her quickly. "You look nice."

"So do you." She pushed off the counter and over to him. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say you weren't at church."

He smirked. "Not my thing."

"Just came for dinner and conversation?" She sat beside him, hands entwined on her lap. "Mom does well with both."

"Look, if you want me to go, all you—"

"I don't want you to leave," she softly interjected. "I never wanted you to feel unwelcome in my childhood home. You didn't let me finish when we were talking on the phone. May I speak now, or have you already concluded I don't want you here?"

"What's there to say?" he murmured.

"Mom might avoid the subject of how we met, and I don't want her to know you originally kidnapped me. Let her think it was Merle and the Governor. Our first meeting at the bar is okay to tell her. Just leave out what happened after we left."

"All right." He cleared his throat. "You don't mind me bein' here?"

"Of course not. You're family too, so you might as well get used to it. She's already made Christmas plans." She hopped up. "I hope you don't mind. I had to bargain with her, and she demanded Christmas week with us. All three of us. We're a package deal now, so clear your calendar. There is no fighting with my mom. I tried. For two hours. I mean, an entire week? It's just not doable as a homicide detective in New York City."

"Wait, she wants us to come down for an entire week?" His head snapped up. "All of us?"

"Yep. She's forcing Caesar and Andrea to come down too. We're staying here for the week. You can argue, but it'll be just wear you down." She paced the Monroe's living for those two hours, trying to work out a deal with her mother, and this was the only outcome. Mothers.

"It's fine. It might...be fun."

"It will be amazing," Gloria amended, pulling down a container of freshly baked turnovers. "It'll be my first Christmas with my granddaughters. They can have Thanksgiving, but Christmas is mine."

"I know, Mom." Carol crossed her arms. "You told me that for an hour."

She smiled sweetly. "You wanted it to work out this way, Carol. You barely fought with me."

"Because it'd be easier to ask the ocean to dry up," she mumbled.

"Are we cooking or standing?" Caesar tied the strings to his apron. "I'm starving."

"When aren't you?" Carol tossed a dishrag at him.

"After I eat." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Are you going to give me a hand or not?" She gestured to the stove and various ingredient littering the counter.

"I'm here, aren't I?" He picked up a spoon and checked on the first pot. He looked over his shoulder at Daryl. "We're going to spice you up so much you're gonna forget you're white. We're still working on Carol."

She smacked his arm lightly, and Daryl chuckled. Andrea tossed her phone on her purse and joined Carol by the oven to help her with what she was working on. Daryl watched the three of them, seeing the change in them, and he wondered if he'd changed any. He knew he had when Sophia was brought to him, but he didn't know if he had since. Perhaps he did need to better himself. Starting with his fears.

After ten minutes of watching and not providing much use, he wheeled himself to the living room to listen to Gloria's stories about Carol. Dale was in the hall on the phone with his wife. The girls were on the couch beside their grandmother, Keira on her lap, and they were munching on the snack she'd taken to them. He could smell them, but he couldn't tell what they were. They smelled good.

Sophia had told Gloria about herself, and Gloria was grinning at her. "What was my mom like?" Sophia begged. "When she was my age?"

"Quiet," she answered. "A little distant, but she was a good girl. She came out of her shell more she was older. She was quite the handful then. Her teenagers years... Lord have mercy. She..."

"...I almost killed you," Carol finished. "You know, I wasn't that horrible."

Gloria chuckled. "You punched the quarterback in the middle of a pep rally."

"He wasn't being a gentlemen," Carol corrected. "It was worth being suspended."

Daryl frowned. "He didn't get in trouble?"

"Not by the school or his parents, but Caesar did have a word with him."

"A word?"

"Several words, and then I had words with him, because I can take care of myself. He always tries to act like the older sibling when he's not. We were born only months apart." Carol smirked. "And that wasn't terrible. Not like when I forced Enrique to take me along with him during his patrol, or when I made him taking me to the range to learn how to fire a gun, or when he taught me how to incapacitate someone with a switchblade. Or the time I had his partner and a fellow officer arrested."

Gloria playfully scowled her child. "You could have gotten him in trouble with that ride along."

"But I didn't, and I lived to correct the tale."

"Who's Enrique?" Daryl inched closer to the armchair, the seat of the wheelchair intolerable.

"He's a distant cousin," Gloria clarified. "He helped me with Carol's adoption. He's also a cop. He was a rookie when Caesar and Carol were kids. I blame him for them becoming cops."

"Why?"

"He showed me everything there was to being a cop." Carol smiled fondly. "He showed me how to defend myself, how to properly hold and fire a gun. He supported me all through the academy. Well, me and Caesar both, of course. He said the gray hairs I gave him were worth it when I detective."

"How'd you give him grays?" Sophia gazed at her mom, wanting to know more.

"When was I a kid...I did something stupid. Entirely worth it, and I don't regret it, but it was risky, more so than I realized at the time. I was found out by a couple jerks, and they...tried to beat me up. Enrique broke it up. That was one of the instances that caused his grays. The others were pranks. Me and Caesar were so cruel to him."

"What kind of pranks?" Mika asked.

"Don't tell them." Caesar stood behind her. "They'll do it to you and me. I will not live through what we put Enrique through."

 _Later_ , Carol mouthed to the girls, who giggled. "I actually came to ask for key to the liquor cabinet."

"Why?" Her eyes closed to slits at her children.

"I want to see how much brandy the kids can hold," Caesar joked.

"Because I'm making my favorite dish of yours. The one grandma taught you." She had learned the recipe from Mom when she graduated from the academy. It was her gift. It was a family recipe, and they weren't allowed to talk about it. She wasn't supposed to know it, but Mom passed it down to her. She would one day teach it to Keira since Andrea wasn't ever fond of it like the freak alien she was. "And wine is kind of an essential ingredient."

"Oh." She rose. "I'll unlock it. Why don't you entertain the kids? Hmm?"

Carol sank down in her mom's seat, seeing Daryl had moved to the armchair during their conversation, and she saw questions in his eyes. She would answer them later. For now she had to regale the children. She smiled when Keira climbed onto her lap, and she kissed her temple. "Okay, what do you wanna know?" She linked her arms around the seven-year-old.

"Why did you decide to become a cop?" Mika sipped her drink. "Of all things, why a cop?"

"To help people, plain and simple. To make a difference." She shrugged. "That's all there is to know. I was born to be a detective, I think."

"You guys ask boring questions," Caesar informed them. "Ask her about her junior prom. That's a story you can't go wrong with."

"No!" Carol glowered at him. "We're not talking about that. The more people you tell, the more people I have to kill, so no. But we can talk about _your_ junior prom."

"It's the same as yours."

"Not entirely."

"Don't even."

"I think I will."

"Here's the wine." Gloria handed it to her son. "Don't start with prom stories. We agreed you wouldn't talk about them anymore, because all it does is lead to fights."

"Mom, it's a classic."

Carol crinkled her nose and moved Kiera to the couch. "No, it's not. C'mon." She snatched the bottle and returned to the kitchen.

– – –

Gloria lost Keira to her grandfather, Mika wandered the living room to check out the many pictures, so it was just her and Sophia and Daryl. Gloria told them all about Carol when she was young, and Daryl wondered if he'd ever be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of young Carol in who she was now. She was very like Sophia, but he hoped Sophia wasn't such a do-gooder. He didn't want her to be like him or Merle, but damn it wouldn't have killed Carol to live a little.

"Did she ever have fun?" Daryl had moved to the couch to sit beside Gloria about an hour ago. He had never felt so at home before, and Gloria was really kindhearted. It was no wonder her kids were they way they were. He liked her a lot.

She snickered. "She did. I don't know about lately, but when she was a kid, she had fun. We used to go dancing. Caesar was slow to learn, but his sister... Karen was a natural, and she taught Carol. She did...wonders for my poor girl."

He lowered his eyes. "Carol told me about her. I'm real sorry for your loss."

"I've made my peace with it." Her smile reappeared only a shadow of its true self. "She was my baby girl. I miss her every day, but I have my Caesar and my Carol. My granddaughters. My daughter-in-law. They keep me going."

He nodded.

"She told you about her sister, eh?" Her smile was mischievous. "You must be close."

"Nah. She just told me 'cause I was shot. She was...tryin' to keep me talking, keep me conscious." He drank deeply from his glass.

"Do you know about Sam too?"

He gulped, and it burned all the way down. "Yeah."

"Then you _are_ close." She rested her head on her hand. "I always worried about her. She has...a strong spirit, but she can't do everything alone. I'm appreciative that she has you. After Rick—before he passed, God rest his soul—I knew she didn't want anyone in her life like that again. I tried to...make her see there was more to life than her job and her son. Then... Well, you know what happened. She shut us all out, and I was terrified I'd lose her too. I prayed every night for her to find her way back, for her to talk to us, for her to realize Sam wouldn't want this. And finally...she came back. She was more broken than when she left, but she came back."

He shifted. "It must have been rough." _Rough? Rough? Really? That's what you decide to go with? Being smashed in between your sibling for a long road trip is rough. Having to tolerate a relative is rough. Losing your grandson and nearly your daughter is excruciating!_ he admonished himself.

"Worst years of my life." She nodded. "I'll never forget them."

"Think she's better now?"

"I do." She grinned at the sight of her daughter and granddaughter in the kitchen, setting the table. She wasn't sure when Sophia had drifted away, but Carol seemed to be better company. "I think it has a lot to do with you."

He blushed. "Me?"

"Since she met you, she's been different. You and Sophia have brought back a side of Carol she locked away, and it's...lead to options she locked away." She knew when she met Carol she had told herself she wouldn't have a family, a home, someone to rely on. For weeks she slept with her backpack, pinching cans here and there, and she knew Carol kept waiting for the bottom to fall out. When it didn't, she abandoned the backpack and returned the cans to the cabinets. She opened herself up family and to them. When she lost Sam, she told herself she couldn't have a child and the job. Then whatever happened with Daryl happened, and she sent Sophia away. Now she was back, the sniper was behind bars where that son of a bitch belonged, and she was opening herself up again to...possibilities. It was heartwarming. Truly it was. She thanked God for giving Carol this after so many years of torment.

"Mostly Sophia," he debated.

"Don't be so modest." She slipped off the couch. "It wasn't Sophia she talked to, was it?"

His blush stained across his cheeks and his neck. "How—how do you know she talked to me?"

"A mother knows."

"Dinner's just about ready." Andrea pointed to the table. "Come find a seat. I'll get you a refill."

They found their seats, Daryl refused to use the wheelchair, Carol and Sophia scolded him for that decision, but Gloria pulled up a chair for him. Keira was on her dad's lap as they'd run out of chairs, and Andrea wouldn't let her use the wheelchair, because she'd find a way to get hurt with the damn thing, but Caesar didn't mind. Carol was between Dale, who she had spent part of the evening discussing the nursery and the baby with, and Sophia, who she had shared holiday story after story with. Gloria was seated by her daughter-in-law and Daryl, waving off the offer of wine. She didn't like to have alcohol at the dinner table. She didn't want to tempt Carol or rub her nose in it, but Carol swore it was all right. Dale and Caesar were finishing off the wine Carol had used to cook with, and everyone else had water or pop.

They said grace, Caesar made his feelings on the evening known, thanking Dale for coming down to see them and Carol for getting her butt back to town. It was the first family meal they had simply because, and it was magnificent. Gloria had never seen her children so carefree and laughing in far too long, prodding each other and teasing as they had when they were eleven and still sheltered from the cruelty of the world. It was a blessing, one she'd thank God for every day.

As they devoured the meal before them, they talked about a myriad of subjects. Carol and Caesar had tried whispering about their current case, but Dale shut it down and lead them back to lighter things. Mika was wary about trying new food, but Carol and Caesar talked her into trying just one bite, and she loved it. Carol spoke on her time with the Monroes, assuring her mother the Martinezes were her first and best family, and Gloria lost the edge to her dissatisfaction with the Monroes wanting Christmas with her and Sophia and Mika. Dale and Andrea tried to talk shop, but Caesar clamped his hand over her mouth and begged her to not mention "client" or "deal" or "job" for the next hour. She shot him a murderous look but obliged.

Dale and Gloria brought out dessert, the girls carried theirs to the living room, Carol made coffee, and the adults shared a pleasant conversation. Andrea found the girls passed out on the couch, Caesar carried them one by one upstairs to Carol's old bedroom, tucking them in, and Dale and Gloria began to work on the mess of dishes.

Carol divvied up a portion of the leftovers for herself, and she caught Daryl peering at her. "What is it?" She sauntered over to him, hands on her hips. "Do you want more coffee? Or dessert?"

"Nah." He smirked at her. "I heard you could dance."

She flushed. "From who?"

"Your mom."

"Well, Karen was better, but yes. Why do you want to know?"

"I was just curious."

"You were curious about my dancing skills?"

"They're shit compared to mine," Caesar claimed. "She's as rusty as an old door hinge."

She rolled her eyes with sheer annoyance at her brother. "You're arrogant, you know that?"

"No, I'm telling truth. I'm better than you. At least in this aspect."

"We'll just have to see about that."

"Are you...challenging me?" He arched a brow. "Because I know a place, and I'll hand you your ass there right now."

"It's too late now."

"It's barely ten-thirty," he protested. "You wanted to challenge me. You did, and we're going. I'll get my keys."

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute! We have kids upstairs," Carol argued. "We can't just ditch them!"

"Mom and Dale are here. I think they can handle three little kids. Besides once Kiera's out, she's out for the rest of the night, so it's two kids." He grinned. "Let's go."

"This is why I hate coming home with you around," Carol ground out. "You always, _always_ have to have it your way."

"Well, you know how I am with a challenge. Should've just let it go. Now you'll have to admit that I'm better."

"Over my dead body."

He chuckled.

– – –

Thirty minutes later Caesar hauled Carol, Daryl and Andrea to a salsa club. Carol was still stewing on him forcing her to do this, Andrea was trying not to laugh at how childish they were being tonight, and Daryl was eager to see who won this so called challenge.

"I would offer you a drink to loosen you up, but I doubt there's enough booze in all of New York." He grinned at her, every inch of his face dripping with hubris.

"When this is over, I'm requesting a new partner," she shot back, mostly teasing.

"Aww, you know you're gonna lose."

"We'll see."

Andrea rested her elbows on the table. "Didn't you bring me here on our fifth date?"

"Yeah. You wanted to go dancing, and I knew the bartender."

"We used to come here when we were in our twenties," Carol supplied. "Caesar got acquainted with the bartender when he was stood up, and I was just looking to have a good time. When I left, he was talking to a redhead."

"So, I'm not the only date you've brought here?" Andrea fixed her gaze on him. "Interesting."

"Hey, it wasn't a date." He glowered at his sister. "It was just a one-night stand. I don't even remember her name."

"I think that's her over there," Carol teased, he flinched, and she chortled at his reaction.

"You're gonna pay for that."

"Oh, I bet."

"Come on, Williams."

She frowned but allowed him to guide her through the crowd to the dance floor. She wished now she had stolen a drink of wine, because it'd been years since she'd set foot in any type of club that wasn't for work. Caesar hadn't either, though, so maybe they'd both make fools of themselves and laugh this off. She could hope.

Andrea lost Carol and Caesar in the crowd. "Ten bucks says they both suck."

Daryl chuckled. "I'll take that bet."

"I haven't seen him dance since long before Keira was born." Their fifth date had been short, because he had a case. From what little time they spent together, it had been enjoyable. She missed dating him. With their work schedules and Keira, they barely had time to date. Maybe she could convince Dad to stay one more night so they could go out tomorrow. Or maybe Carol would babysit for them. She would have to ask.

"Why not?"

"Well, there's work, and you know about Sam. He just...threw himself headfirst into whatever case they were assigned, and so did I until I got pregnant. Then Keira came, and we had to schedule around her." She hadn't meant to sound so wistful.

"You sound sad."

"I guess I didn't realize how much I missed it until we came back here." She rolled her bottom lip into between her teeth. "Hmm."

Daryl changed the subjected and motioned toward Carol and Caesar. "What do we do if they're equally good?"

"Well, I can distract Caesar, but Carol's up to you. You might have to kill someone and call Michonne to let her know there's been a homicide."

He laughed. "You're not even kidding, are you?"

"No."

They weren't too awful. It was obvious it'd been a while for both of them, but eventually they began to flow with each other and the music. Carol was talking to him, and she was laughing, her eyes catching the light, and Daryl had never seen her so gorgeous before. She appeared to be delighted. In all the time he'd known her, the past couple of months, he'd never seen her look truly content prior to this moment. In fact this entire evening Carol had smiled and laughed and joked, showing a side he didn't know she had. She was amazing. He had noted the change, but this was...mesmerizing. The way she moved, the way her lips rose as she grinned, the way she threw head back to laugh, likely at some comment Caesar had made. She was stunning. God was she stunning.

Andrea thanked the bartender for the drinks, ensuring only Caesar's had alcohol, and she reached out to capture Daryl's attention, but she knew she could have gone into labor right then and still not have gotten his attention. He was enthralled by Carol. Amy had teased her multiple times Andrea did the same with Caesar. She shoved her and almost sent her and her drink flying off the stool. She hoped she didn't look like this. God, he had it bad, but she wasn't this apparent, right? Yes, she was...love struck as Amy teased, but he was gawking. Did she? She might need to call Amy tonight.

"You might want to blink."

He reddened and averted his eyes, clearing his throat.

"Don't worry. She's too distracted to have noticed."

"I dunno what you mean," he grumbled.

"Uh-huh." She overlapped her arms on the table. "Daryl, you don't have to be shy. I won't tell anyone."

"Tell anyone what?" He dusted invisible lent off his pants.

She bobbed her head. "Denial works too, but if you care for her as much as I think you do, you might want to tell her."

He combed a hand through his hair. "Tell her?"

"You met by chance a decade ago," Andrea orated. "You slept together, she got pregnant and had your daughter. That could have been the end of it, but you picked her out of every cop in New York to find your daughter. And you persisted when she tried to block you out to find the sniper. You clearly don't want your relationship to end, so why pretend? What good does that do you?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because she's my best friend, my sister-in-law, and my dad told me something today. He said love is impossible to hide. His dad told him that, among other things, and it's true. There's no point trying to pretend you don't feel anything toward her. You're going to be in each other's lives because you have Sophia. Can you really hide how you feel for the rest of your life?" She searched his eyes when he raised his head. "Do you even want to?"

She didn't receive an answer, Carol and Caesar joined them, and two minutes later, Caesar was pulling her toward the floor. Carol checked the time, seeing it was going on twelve-thirty, and she adjusted her watch. She didn't know how well Sophia slept, but they needed a night out. She knew she needed it. Daryl had to have needed this too, being cooped up in the hospital all day every day. She could imagine how much he needed this, if his time was anything hers.

She tilted her head and met his gaze, a flush crossing her cheeks, but he said nothing. She didn't have any words for him, but a warmth spread through her, and she smiled at him. She didn't know why, but she couldn't repress it. "Heh."


	33. In Your Eyes

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Back at the house, Caesar carried the girls to their respective cars, Carol was taking Daryl back to the hospital, and Dale said goodbye to them since he was heading out in the morning. Gloria embraced her children, kissing each of her granddaughters on the forehead, and she shook hands again with Daryl with a knowing smile. She hugged Andrea once she'd confirmed Keira was buckled in.

"Get home safe." Caesar punched his sister's arm lightly. "You're not half bad, but I am better."

She rolled her eyes. "Good night. Let's hope your head can fit in your car."

"Good night."

Carol drove to the hospital, the night nurse greeted them, and Daryl groaned and plopped down in the wheelchair he'd been avoiding. Carol snickered and helped him into bed, politely dismissing the nurse who Daryl wasn't fond of, and she climbed onto the bed with him. He peered at her curiously.

"So, I'm back." She lifted her gaze. "And you wanted to talk."

He shrank against the pillows. "Now?"

"Tomorrow night. I want to spend the day with Sophia, and Ryan's coming down to take Mika out, but I will bring you dinner. A steak even." He grinned. "But you have to eat kale salad first, all right?"

"Sure."

She smiled. "Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks for lettin' me stay. It was nice, just hanging out with you. Er, and your family." He fought off a blush, having done enough of that for the rest of his life. "It's weird."

"My family?"

"Yeah, but not in a mean way. It's weird to see...what me and Merle missed out on. The family pictures, the dinners, the...affection. Wasn't sure those existed till tonight."

"You gave those things to Sophia."

"Ain't the same," he muttered.

She nodded. "Well, we are a very affectionate family, so get used to that. When you're able, Mom will probably hug you breathless."

His lip twitched. "Great."

She chuckled. "It'll only get worse, and it's only getting later. I should head out, but I'll see you for a late dinner. Probably nine or so. I have to con Rosita into babysitting."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too, actually." She swung off the bed. "Good night."

"Night." He wriggled a bit until he was comfy then closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He tensed when he felt lips brush his forehead, but he didn't dare open his eyes. He caught a whiff of soap, the same soap he'd tasted all those years ago, and he gulped. He shook his head and peeked with one eye, but she was gone. Christ, she was going to be the end of him.

– – –

Carol and the girls ate a breakfast of pancakes and hash browns, Ryan joined them near the end, and Mika nearly broke herself trying get off her stool and hug him. She didn't know he'd be by, and Carol wanted to see the shock on her face. It was completely worth it.

"Have a good time!" Carol called after them. "Be careful!"

"We will be," Ryan called back. "She's my kid, you know."

"Not legally," she mused.

He waved before he disappeared down the hall, Carol shut the door and filled the dishwasher, and Sophia climbed up on a stool, leaning on the island to watch, still nibbling one a chocolate pancake. Carol smiled at her and finished her cup of coffee, seeing it was a lovely day. She wasn't yet sure what they would do, but as long as they were together, it didn't matter. She had a couple errands to run, a few bills to pay and a check in with Michonne, but she had requested this time off. She was going to use it wisely.

"Do you have any plans today?" Carol rinsed out the coffee cup and placed it on the rack, closing the dishwasher. "With Rosita?"

"No. Why would I?"

"I don't know. You're kind of a busy ten-year-old." She smirked. "Would you like to go out with me? I have a couple errands to run, but we can go to the park, have some pizza for lunch, maybe have some ice cream. How does that sound?"

"Awesome." She beamed. "Lemme go change!"

"Okay."

Sophia was gone about five minutes then flew back to meet Carol at the door, she locked up the loft and they rode the elevator down to the lobby, talking about how Sophia felt about her grandmother. Carol could see Gloria had wormed her way into her heart, and she was overjoyed. She knew Mom would love Sophia no matter what, but she wasn't sure how Sophia would take to Mom. Like a duck to water apparently. She couldn't express how happy she was to learn they'd liked each other.

They chose to walk, Sophia tentatively reached out and gripped her mom's hand, and Carol squeezed it reassuringly. They quickly attended to Carol's errands, not wanting to waste the day on them, and Carol had a curt call with Michonne, saying her vacation would be short, but she would be back at it tomorrow morning. She had a few things to sort out, and she knew Lerner wouldn't fill her shoes, but she'd perform well. She could hear Lerner groaning in the background though, and she knew why when Rosita began to guffaw. Caesar and his baby fever. Partly why Carol wasn't coming in just yet. She couldn't avoid it forever, but she could try.

They crossed the street, and Carol tucked her phone inside her pants pocket once she'd powered it down. She smiled over at her daughter, and they conversed about wonder nothings. Carol had missed talking about nothing important. She had missed walking down a congested street with her baby and laughing at inside jokes. She missed the feel of a hand in hers, and love. Sophia looked at her with such love in her eyes, and she wanted to soak it in. She had the rest of her life to do so, but she needed it today. It kept her anxiety at bay.

"Rosita tells me you're going to see your uncle tomorrow." Carol raised her hand to block the sun. "Is this the first time you're seeing him?"

"Yeah." Sophia aped Carol's movement. "Dad wanted to go with us, but his doctor said no. He wasn't thrilled with Dad being out so late, or that he didn't use the wheelchair until he was outside his room."

"When he's better, he'll take you." She dropped her hand when shade cloaked the streaks of sunlight.

"Speaking of Dad, he said to ask you if we can go to church again." She gazed at her pleadingly. "I liked Grandma's church. There was a lot of her family there, and they were really nice. I wanna go there again. If it won't be any trouble, I mean."

"Mom has a lot of family who attend that church." Carol pulled her daughter in so she wouldn't bump into the distracted passerby. "They always give me hugs and kiss my cheeks. They're so loving I sometimes wanna duck under the pews."

Sophia giggled. "Caesar practically did."

"They go for his cheeks." She reached over and pinched Sophia's tenderly. "I'm surprised they didn't do the same with you."

"They were distracted by the news of Andrea's pregnancy, and Gloria didn't want them to overwhelm us, so she led me to where she always sits. She said she'd introduce me next time."

"That was a smart move. Now I'll have to do it, and I'll be bombarded with questions." She loved her family, but they were too much. She would have to wave the questions off or vaguely answer them. Some of them were still sore she and Rick didn't marry. To find out she had another child out of wedlock might break their hearts. She could picture their faces as clear as day, and she cringed. Maybe they should attend the church Caesar and Andrea "attend". It might save her tail.

"So we're going?" Hope clung to every syllable.

"Yes, but we might not stick around for dinner. Although Mom will probably sucker me in." She narrowed her eyes and bobbed her head. "Mom has a way of doing that."

"Yes! I can't wait!" She grinned. "Do I have to wear a dress again? I don't mind, but...when the police raided the house, Axel and Noah only managed to get our pictures and a handful of clothes. I don't have a lot of nice clothes in what they brought, mostly jeans and shorts."

"You don't have to always dress up, but now that you mention we should buy you some new clothes. And a phone. Daryl and I talked about it, and you need a phone."

"Okay!"

They spent a couple hours shopping for clothes, Carol bought herself a few blouses, and they purchased a phone for Sophia. Carol added her number along with Michonne's, Caesar's, Andrea's, Gloria's, Rosita's and an alert with a code phrase in case she ever stumbled in trouble. She told Sophia the code word, Sophia appeared to have heard all of Carol's warnings, and she figured Daryl had told her the same. She was relieved Sophia regarded it seriously. It was one less thing for her stress about.

They swung by Sam's favorite pizza place, and they chatted a while. Carol spotted a picture of Sam and her from his ninth's birthday. He wanted to come here before the party, and once they found out it was his birthday they insisted on taking a picture. He was goofy, and Carol had only smiled. She had a copy at home. It didn't ache to see her little boy. Instead it sparked an idea.

"So?" Carol gripped Sophia's hand as they headed back to the loft to drop off the bags. "Did you like it?"

"Yes. It was delicious!" She was stuffed. "What were you staring at in there?"

"Sam and I used to go there," she admitted. "He loved the sausage and peppers. He used to bug me all the time to take him there, but I worked so much. Rick would take him from time to time, more often than I would have liked, but I wasn't around to argue."

Sophia's fastened her fingers even more around the handles of her bags. "What else did Sam like?"

"Video games. I couldn't pry him away from them. He and Rick would play, but I didn't touch it. It was their thing."

"What was your and Sam's...thing?"

She shrugged. "I don't know to be honest. We never really had a thing we did. We had our daily routine with occasional rescheduling and passing off to Rick or Lori, even. We didn't have time to establish a...thing."

Sophia frowned. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "It's okay. He had that with his dad, and I'm grateful for that."

"That makes sense, I guess."

"We can have a thing," Carol told her daughter. "I don't know what our thing will be, but we can definitely have a thing."

Sophia beamed. "Can you teach me to dance? I heard Dad and Grandma talking about how Karen taught you. Could you teach me?"

"I think I can."

Sophia offered to run the bags upstairs, Carol was reluctant but agreed, and Sophia came jogging back about fifteen minutes later, waving to her. She felt the knots loosen in her stomach, and she knew she needed to stop expecting the worst. This wasn't going to have the same conclusion as her and Sam. The sniper was behind bars, and he would never touch her. Sophia was used to danger. She knew how to adapt. She was smart. It would be fine. It would be fine.

There was a loud shot from behind Carol, her heart stopped, her blood ran cold, and her gaze drifted to Sophia who was slumped over. She nearly collapsed, but she saw Sophia wasn't bleeding. She rushed over and bent down to see what the hell had happened.

"Are you okay?" She forced her to look at her. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." Sophia's brow creased. "I—my shoe was untied. What's wrong, Mom?"

"Your—your shoe?" She saw the half tied knot, and she exhaled. "I—I'm sorry. I just... I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Cars backfiring used to scare me too." She returned to tying her shoe. "Dad helped me through it. I don't jump anymore, but I don't like the sound."

She faintly laughed. "Me neither, baby." She ran a hand down her daughter's hair and kissed her temple. "Did you bring your phone?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Let's hit the park then. I know a good ice cream place near there." She smiled at her and helped her to her feet, holding tightly to her hand.

– – –

Andrea was having a heated debated with one of her coworkers. He wasn't in the office just yet, so they were yelling at each other through the phone, and her assistant had called Caesar. He asked to be informed if Andrea ever put herself in a position where her blood pressure might rise. He was impressed when he entered the building and could hear her from there. Her assistant was cringing by the door to her office, and he held a finger to his lips as he crept inside the room.

"You imbecile! You had one task! It wasn't even major! I could have done it with my eyes closed, but not only did you fail you somehow managed to turn this entire deal—"

Caesar stepped into her line of sight. "Hi, honey."

"What the hell are you doing here?" she commanded, her searing glower turning on him.

He picked the phone up. "She'll call you back, Dan." He wasn't sure if that was the man's name or not, but it was better than going with imbecile. He set the phone down. "Are you all right?"

"Why are you here?" She smacked his hand away then stabbed a finger at him. "You told Haley to call you if I raised my voice, didn't you?"

"Not your voice, but pretty much." He smiled apologetically. "I'm just looking out for you!"

"Caesar, you have ten seconds to get out of my office before I throw you out."

"I know you're livid, because of this deal, but don't take it out on me. It'll be okay. You'll work it out. You always do. Sit down and take a breath. You're seriously red in the face."

She shook her head. "Don't you have a case?"

"Lerner's out on interview. She didn't need my help, and we've hit a dead end. I thought I'd take you out to lunch."

"No, you came to stop me from belittling my colleagues."

"That too, but mostly lunch. C'mon, I'll take you to that Italian place you love. The one with the good bread sticks." He caught her wrist and drew her close. "Just take a long lunch with me."

She smiled at the adorable pleading in his eyes. "Fine, but I want to go out tonight too. Just us."

"That seems doable." He grasped her hips. "I can ask Rosita to babysit. She's already got Sophia."

"Okay." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I'll get my purse. We'll take my car."

"You have candy stashed in the glove compartment, don't you?"

"No. I left my cell in there, and I need to call the client as soon as possible."

"Dear God, woman, you must stop working."

"I will tonight." She kissed him. "Let's go. Your baby's hungry."

He chuckled and laced his fingers through hers, guiding her toward to the door. "I'll have to call Rosita and see if she's okay with babysitting both girls. I shouldn't assume she will be."

"I'm sure she won't mind, but you should give her something as a thank you."

"Think she needs a purse?"

She sighed. "On second thought, let me worry about what to get her."

––

"So, why are you babysitting Sophia?" Caesar inquired at the loft to Rosita. "Where's Carol going?"

"She might have a date. She might have a late session. She might want a night out on the town. I don't care as long as she comes home alive." Rosita dropped her tablet in her lap. "I'm trying to figure out this case, and Sophia's a good kid to watch. Keira too. If I'm lucky, I'll crack the case wide open, and they'll pass out soon."

"I feel so relaxed leaving my child with now."

Her face scrunched. "I'll take care of the little ones. I'm just multitasking. I happen to be good at it, unlike you. Besides it's already late. She'll be out before I do anything damaging."

"I should have asked Mom to babysit."

"Probably, but Mom comes with a string of questions about your plans." She ran a hand through her hair. "I don't care enough to ask, but you need to take care of my fetus niece, okay?"

"Oh, do you have foresight now?"

"No, but it feels like a girl."

"How the hell do you know what it feels like?"

"I'm never wrong about this type of thing. It's gonna be a girl. You should name her after her best aunt." She pointed to herself.

"No." He checked the time. "What the hell are Andrea and Carol doing?"

"Go find out."

"I'll just wait."

In Carol's bedroom, Andrea sat on her bed and sighed again, flopping back, and Carol laughed at her. She had her bag prepared with Daryl's late dinner, and she trying to find wrapping paper. She wanted to hide it all wrapped, so she could just present it quickly. She lost the ribbon an hour ago.

"What is it?" She smoothed down the corners and taped them.

"I told Caesar I wanted to go out tonight," she replied, "but honestly I just want to go home and cuddle."

"Cuddle?" She tried not to snigger. "You wanna cuddle?"

"Yes. Cuddle and eat takeout and...watch an old movie, but I'm already dressed. He made reservations. How much of an ass will I be if I ask him to reschedule for another night?"

"Andrea, just tell him. He'll take it like the grown adult he is."

"He was excited about tonight, Carol. We haven't been out in ages, and when we finally have time, I don't have the energy." She groaned. "You tell him."

"Not going to happen." She gathered the bag. "I'm ready to leave, so come on."

She pushed herself up and off the bed, following Carol to the living where Caesar and Rosita were. The girls were in bed in Sophia's room, supposedly sleeping, and the duo were reviewing the case for the twentieth time tonight. Caesar promised he'd stop after they were dressed, but there he was, flipping through the file Rosita had with her. Andrea heaved her millionth sigh of the night at the sight of it, and Carol prodded her with her elbow.

"Sorry." He caught her annoyed sigh and closed the file. "You ready?"

She winced apologetically. "If I were to ask you for a favor, would you...hate me?"

"It depends on the favor." He cautiously approached his wife. "What is it?"

"I know you wanted to go out tonight, but... It's been a long day, and I am exhausted. I can't tolerate people anymore today. I'm sorry, but I can't do it. I just want to go home and lie in bed with you." She braced herself, but all he did was laugh. "What?"

"I thought it was something terrible. Your favor. But that? That's fine, Andrea. We can just go home. We can go out another night. Probably in the distant future, but we can do it another night."

"This is why I married you." She grinned. "What about Keira?"

"I'll watch her," Rosita announced. "Just take your happy marriage and get out of my sight. You too, Williams. Out."

They did as demanded, Carol said good bye to them and parted ways outside. She drove to the hospital, texting Daryl before she pulled out to let him know she was on her way, and she hoped the nurse that roamed the halls wasn't going to lecture her for coming to see him so late. If she did, she would claim it was police business. If that didn't work, she would have to bribe her somehow. She wasn't positive on how, but she thought better in the moment. She'd think of something.

Daryl smiled at the sight of her, and she returned it, closing the door behind her, and she placed a rather large bag on the bed. He could smell the steak dinner she promised, and his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since they brought him lunch, and he napped through dinner. He was pretty damn hungry. Borderline starving. It'd been a long time since he'd felt like this, only he did get to eat. He knew Carol knew how he felt, and his smile softened. Another thing they had in common. Maybe it— _them_ —wasn't beyond the realm of possibilities.

"Hey." She began to empty the bag. "I already ate, but here's your dinner. I made it like Sophia told me you liked it." She held out the plastic container.

"You—wait, you cooked for me?" He took the container, and she nodded. "Thought you'd just order it, or something."

"I had to make the girls and Ryan dinner, and it's been a long while since I cooked. I brought you dessert too. Sophia didn't mention your favorite dessert, so I went with chocolate chip cookies. I hope that's all right."

"Yeah, that's good."

She laced her fingers together. "Wanna have some idle chat while you eat?" He laughed. "What? I can't talk to you while you're chowing down."

He nodded. "Yeah, sure. How was your day?"

––

"If you just wanted to stay at home, you should have let me know." Caesar loosened his tie and yanked it off. He had ditched his jacket in the living room, and Andrea hadn't reprimanded him for it, so she either didn't see it, or she was bushed. "The only way I'd be mad at you is if you wanted to cancel, and I made plans at that Thai place I love."

"Good to know." She smirked. "Unzip me, please."

He shuffled over to her and slid the zipper to her dress down. "How are you feeling right now?"

"Right now?" She shivered as air kissed her exposed back, and she closed her eyes. "Like I could use a nap."

He slid his arms through her dress and around her waist, pulling her back to him, his fingers spread across her stomach. "Do you want me to order something, or throw something together? My son needs his dinner."

"Oh, your son?" She chuckled.

He smiled. "Or my daughter."

"What are you going to do if it's not a boy?" She stacked her hands over his on over her dress.

"Then I suppose we'll have to keep trying. We need a boy to carry on the Martinez name." He kissed her cheek. "You're not getting out of eating."

"I'm not trying to." She leaned her head back on his shoulder. "I'm contemplating what I want."

"Let me know." He kissed her exposed shoulder and released her, stepping toward the closet to change into sweets and t-shirt. "Do you want one of my shirts?"

"Yes." She shed her heels and leaned in the doorway, holding her dress out to him. "Hang this up for me, please." He glanced at her, his eyes dropping lower, and she smirked. "My eyes are up here, Caesar."

"I know." He traded a shirt for her dress and hung it up as requested. "Just remembering the last time you were pregnant."

"It was terrible." She slipped the shirt over her head and pulled her hair from the collar. "Keira was not a slight baby, and I was cruel to you."

"You had your days." He grasped her hips. "But you were adorable, all round and—"

"Puffy?" she filled in.

"No, just adorable."

She shook her head. "No, I was not."

"Yes, you were." He kissed her. "And I get to see it happen all over again. I know you're not thrilled about the later months, but...I'm here. For you, for Keira, for our baby, and I love you so much. I can't even begin to tell you how much. You've given me...everything, Andrea Harrison, and when we're old and gray, I know I'm not gonna regret anything 'cause I have you."

She laced her fingers behind his neck. "It's Martinez."

He chuckled. "I know."

She pressed a kiss to his lips, bumping her forehead against his, and she smiled. "I love you, Caesar, and I don't regret anything either." She stroked behind his ear with her thumb and kissed him again before stepping back to let him change. She sat on the bed. "So, how many kids do you want? I'm drawing the line at three."

He laughed. "Three's fine."

"Are you sure? What if it's three girls?"

"Then I'll try and change your mind." He dug her phone out of her purse to order dinner. "I can be quite persuasive."

She grasped the drawstring to his sweats and brought him close. "You couldn't convince me to have four children."

"I guess I'll find out in three years."

Her brows rose up to her hairline. "You think after I give birth to our second child, I'll be pregnant a year or so later?"

"...yeah."

"You're insane."

"C'mon, it makes sense. They'll both be in diapers, and I don't want to relive that once our second baby outgrows them. Besides they'll be a year or two apart, and we get them matching outfits before they're too old to realize what we're doing and reject us."

She groaned. "Just so you know that isn't going to happen."

"And why not?"

"Because I said so. My body, my say." She held his hips and locked eyes with him. "Let's talk about something else."

"What do you want for dinner?"

"Well, I was thinking," she straightened up her spine, her hands gliding down his hips toward his behind, and she smiled at him, "why don't we think about that later?"

"I thought you didn't have energy, that you wanted to cuddle."

"Oh, we can cuddle— _after_." She slid her fingers under his waistband, lifting his shirt to reveal his muscled lower abdomen. "We can eat after as well. I'm sure we'll have worked up quite the appetite."

"Andrea." He sighed when she kissed his stomach, her hands traveling up, taking his shirt with them, revealing more of his skin for her to kiss, and he tapped his finger on the side of her phone, thinking. "Wouldn't you rather eat first?"

"No." She rose up on her knees on the bed to be the same height as him and searched his eyes. "Unless you don't want to."

"Just trying to be a good dad." He crushed his mouth to hers, feeling her laughter, and they fell back on the bed. He rolled so she was on top of him, and he combed his fingers through her silky hair, her phone lost on the bedding or on the floor. He didn't care. There was a landline by the door anyway.

"Wait." She pulled back. "I almost forgot."

"Forgot what?" He rose up on his elbows.

"Dad wanted me to give this to you." She reached over him to open the drawer by the bed, his face smothered by her chest, not that he minded, and she sat back on his hips. "I wanted him to give this to you himself, but he thought it'd be best if I did the honors."

He scrutinized the wooden box in his wife's hands and pushed himself up, one arm around her waist to keep her upright, and he met her eyes. "What is it?"

"I dunno. He just gave me the box." She slipped unruly hair behind her ear and unlatched it, opening the lid and unveiling a letter and a watch. "This is my grandfather's watch. Dad was always messing with it when me and Amy were kids."

He observed his wife as she rubbed her thumb over the face of the watch, holding it as thought it were a fragile, delicate bird, and he smiled. "Did he?"

She nodded. "He used to complain when the battery died, which seemed like all the time now that I'm thinking back, and we begged him to get a new watch. I even got him one for his birthday, but he wouldn't use it. He didn't even explain why, just smiled fondly and chuckled at us."

He gently took the watch from her fingers. "What's the letter say?"

She unfolded it. "I give you a mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father's before me. I give it to you, not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it, for a moment, now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it."

This must be the gift he mentioned. "He gave this to me?"

"He gave this to you." She cupped his cheek. "I told you he didn't hate you."

He smiled and gazed at the worn watch. This was a Harrison family heirloom, and he'd given it to Caesar, not Andrea or Amy, not even to them for Keira one day. He didn't have words. This watch meant a lot to Dale, and he simply passed it down to him. They didn't share a drop of blood, and their relationship wasn't all that perfect, but he gave this to him. Without a second thought. "That's kind of him. I should call him and thank him for this."

"Right now?"

He placed it back in the box carefully and closed it. "Well, it's not too late, but your parents do go to bed really early." He set the box on the nightstand.

"And we have unfinished business to attend to."

"Unfinished business? Is that what we're calling sex now?" He snickered at his wife. "It's cute."

"Trust me, Caesar, nothing I have in mind is "cute"." She smirked at him when his chuckle dried up, and she dropped her hand to his lap, her hand once again underneath the waistband of his sweats, and he drew in a sharp breath. "I can give you a preview, let you know what you're in for."

His eyes shut at the feel of her stroking him, and his parts parted from a fevered moan, heat spreading throughout his body, mingling with pleasure, and he grew flush. "A—Andrea, uh—"

"Shh." She kissed his words away.

– – –

"You'll cook when I move in, right?" He closed the lid to the practically licked clean container, and she smiled, nodding. "Good, 'cause you're a damn good chief."

"Thank you." She placed it back in the bag, opening the container of cookies. "Help yourself."

He nodded and peeked at her. "Umm...so, where do we start?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I have no idea. I've never had this problem before, so I can't say." She sat across from him on the bed. "I guess...we start with what we want from...this."

"What do you want?"

"You tell me first. You're the one who wanted to talk, after all." In all honesty, she wasn't sure what she wanted from this relationship. She knew now there were various roads for them to take. She knew what they had in the past, even for two days, and she knew what they had now. They both had barriers, thick ass barriers, and she wanted to knock them down and get to know who Daryl truly was. She wanted to know more about him and his life from his own mouth, not just what the Governor told her about him. She wanted to be able to look at him and see more than the man who impregnated her nearly ten years ago. She wanted to see the man he was beneath all those insecurities and masks. She always had, even in after she'd drunken herself into a stupor. She wanted to know who the man behind John was, but she kept her walls up, kept her tab open, and that was it. She had a chance now to know him. She wasn't going to waste it.

"What were those nights to you?" he whispered, forcing himself to hold eye contact.

"...what were those nights to me?" She laughed softly. "They were...fun. They were terrible too. The first night was one of the worse hangovers of my life, but...it was worth it. You...were what I needed. I didn't even know I needed it, but there you were, lurking in a cigarette smoked-filled bar."

He pursed his lips. "Fun, eh?"

"The conversations," she nodded, "were a highlight. You told me about what you wanted for your future, what you thought you'd become, and it was fascinating. You were honest with me, and I was honest with you too."

"You were?"

"Yes." She reddened. "I hardly recall what I told you, but...I didn't lie. About my name and my job, yes, but nothing about...myself. After my name, of course."

"You don't reget what happened?"

"It gave us Sophia, and I couldn't regret her." She smiled. "She's everything. I learned a lot about her today."

"Did you?"

"We got her new clothes, a phone, and we had lunch. It was just the two of us, and I loved every second of it. She held my hand, and...I felt like a mom again. I wasn't just some stranger beside her. I was her mother, and I can't tell you how that made me feel." Her smile was one he'd never seen before, and he instantly adored it. She looked almost too gorgeous with that smile. "I...panicked though."

"What do you mean?"

"A...car backfired, and Sophia was on the ground, and I thought—" She gulped. "It was so similar to what happened with Sam. We ran errands, spent the day out, and... I thought for a second I'd lost her."

"She doesn't like the sound either. She used to scream and jump toward me like the street had caught fire." He almost laughed in memory. "She's all right, Carol. He's doing his time, and he'll never hurt us again. It's okay."

"I know. She changed the subject, and we went about our day. She didn't flinch, simply put on a smile and talked to me until I was okay. She didn't ask me what was wrong. She didn't push. She just let me handle it."

"She's good about that."

She rubbed a hand under her eye and redirected the conversation. "Anyway, we were talking about that night. I think that was the first time in two years I'd been with a man."

"Two years?" He blinked. "Really?"

"It was after I lost Sam, and I usually drank until I blacked out. I think the bartender called Caesar to take me home most nights. I couldn't tell you. It was...a hazy time." She shook her head. "But yes. You were actually the last guy I was with."

He stared. "In ten years?"

"What? It's not that strange. My job consumed most of my time, and what time I had left for myself I spent doing other things. I council families who've lost husbands or wives or children. I volunteer. I didn't like being left to my own devices. That's partly how I became an alcoholic. I couldn't risk falling down that path again, so I busied myself."

"For ten years?"

"Were you with someone?" She arched a brow.

"Not...not serious." He shrugged. "Merle insisted I go out with him and his "friends" a couple times. It didn't mean anything."

"Right." She crossed her legs. "So, just a few times you did this?"

"I didn't keep count."

"Uh-huh."

"So, you hadn't been with anybody since me?"

"I had offers," she declared, almost offended. "I just didn't want to be involved with anyone. I'd given up my daugher, and I couldn't risk the sniper hurting any man in my life. I had to work my life around that fact for ten years unlike you."

He frowned. "Must've been lonely."

"I did better on my own back then." She spoke as if it were years and years ago when in fact it was only months ago. She had changed since being kidnapped, but she was that woman just few months ago. If she hadn't met Daryl, she wondered where she would be right now. She wondered what would have happened between Daryl and Phillip. Who Sophia would be. If she would have looked into Sophia one day when she was retired and looking back on her glory days. If she would have ever run into Daryl and connected with him as they had in the past. If she would have bothered to reconcile with the Monroes. Who would she be now? What would her goals be? It was interesting and frightful to ponder. What would have happened to her little girl? Would she have found her body and Daryl's when the Governor finally sought revenge?

She pushed those thoughts away and inhaled. It wouldn't happen, so there was no need to dwell on it. "Besides it wasn't like I didn't...find ways to keep myself entertained."

He eyed her. "What do you mean?"

She smirked. "You don't know what I'm talking about?" She tilted her head, lips puckered, obviously amused.

He caught on and flushed at the thought of her masturbating.

"Looking a little red there, Dixon." She laughed as his blush worsened, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

"It ain't funny," he rumbled, trying to rid himself of the red strains across his cheeks.

"It is." She giggled. "What, a woman can't do that?"

"No, that ain't the problem."

"Should I ask what is...?" she teased.

"How did we even get to talkin' about this?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Thought we were gonna talk about us, not...this."

She beamed at him. "You're kind of adorable, Daryl Dixon."

He shook his head. "Yeah, yeah."

"What do you want from me?" she inquired. "We can be friends. I think we do this well. I enjoy your company, and I like knowing Sophia has both of us to turn to. She doesn't have to pick you or me, because we're not friendly. We're on good terms, and it's reassuring."

"You wanna be friends?"

"I didn't say that, but we can be. We are now."

"So, you want more?"

"Daryl, I asked you want you wanted from me, not to prod me." She searched his eyes. "What do you want to ask? I don't bite. You don't need to scared."

Yet he was. He was very fucking scared of what she would say. He knew sooner or later it would come out. Andrea had seen it. Caesar. Rosita. Gloria. She would figure it out, and there would be questions and awkwardness. He didn't want that. He didn't want her to consider his silence negatively. He didn't know what would happen between them. He didn't know where this could lead. It has already lead to places, and while he thoroughly enjoyed those places, he didn't know where that left them now.

They were friends, she was correct, but he didn't want to simply be friends. He wanted what they had before, only more. He wanted to know her more—better. He wanted to lie down beside her at night and hold her. He wanted to stroke her hair and be there beside her through whatever came next. He wanted so many things, but he didn't know if she did. He couldn't ask back then, because of his job. He could question her now, learn what she might want from her life, from their relationship, and there were no impediments. They could date and be a couple, and there was nothing to stop them. Nothing but each other, that was.

He knew what he wanted from her. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knew. Ask him next week, ask him next year, ask him four years ago, and his answer was and would still be the same. There was no one else. He craved her, but he told himself over and over again she wasn't an option. She couldn't be in his life. She couldn't be his girl or the mother of their children. She couldn't be there with him. Then suddenly she was both of those things—there and Sophia's mother—and he didn't know what to say to her. He didn't know how to broach this subject, even though they were already there. She was asking, looking at him with those sapphire eyes, and he couldn't speak. He was fucking petrified. If he stated what he wanted, and she didn't feel the same, that was it. It was over before it could actually begin, and this tension would always be there. He couldn't afford to let that happen, because tension would be first then distance, and he couldn't let them grow apart, because of Sophia. She would want to know why, and he couldn't tell her why. He couldn't even tell her mother he loved her, he'd been in love with her since that second night when he held her until she fell asleep, and that all those feelings came rushing back when she tended to his wounds, hovering over him and smiling like a damn angel.

"Daryl?"

He shuddered. "You really wanna know?"

"Yes, I've asked you twice, because I want to know."

"I don't...know what I want," he confessed. "I—I don't wanna be _just_ friends. I—what I feel for you, what I wanna do with...and to you ain't something that happens between friends, but I understand if you don't feel the same. I ain't askin' for anything, just letting you know where I'm at, I guess."

She was mute, surveying the man before her, and he shriveled under her gaze. She could see the answer to her question in his eyes when he wasn't averting his gaze to the floor or the window or his nails. She knew what he wanted now, and she knew what choices were open for them. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but there was something she wanted to know.

"What do you mean "what you want to do to me"?" She cocked her head to the side.

He stammered. "Nothin'."

"Friends can do nothing to each other," she orated, leaning toward the him. "What friends _don't_ do...is more along the lines of this." She leaned forward, her fingers gliding along his cheek, and he tensed, his eyes locked in her eyes a second before her lips met his.

It was a brief kiss, but it caused what was once there to flare up, and Daryl feared his chest would burst from the memories. He tried not to linger on them, to reminiscence how her body felt flush against his, skin on skin, her hands digging into his back, her pleasured moans by his ear. He wanted to banish them to the darkest corners of his mind, but he couldn't anymore. He didn't want to, as Andrea had stated. He didn't want to hide. He didn't want to forget. There was no reason to. If she rejected him somewhere down the line, at least he could say he had the balls to pursue her.

"I think I love you," he blurted then winced at the sound of those words.

Her grin vanquished the dark thoughts from brewing, and she rested her forehead on his. "I think... I think I'll let you." She clasped his hand. "I don't know if I love you, Daryl. I don't even know if I remember what that feels like anymore, but I want to try. I don't want...to be alone, and you're not a backup plan by any means, I just..." she dropped off.

"You just what?" he enjoined.

"I just...need time to figure my feelings out." She stroked his cheek with her thumb and met his eyes. "I think time with you oughta to speed the process along, don't you?"

His lips twitched upward. "I think so."

She smiled softly. "We...need to take this slow, because God knows there is a bomb out there just waiting for us, but I do want this. When you're out of here, we can try this for real."

He groaned. "When I'm out?"

"You need to focus on getting better," she chided. "That's the only thing that should be occupying your thoughts."

He rolled his eyes and leaned back. "Don't got much of a choice, do I?"

"No." She entwined their fingers. "But I am going to be here with you every step of the way, and so will our daughter. We might not be...together the way you want, but we will be. There are things I need to work through, things you need to work through, but we can make this work." She searched his eyes for reassurance, having not been in this position in over twenty years. "Can't we?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Is there anything left to discuss?"

"Are we gonna tell Sophia? Or your...brother?" Oh, Christ, Gloria. Did he have to ask permission? Or for her blessing? She seemed to like him, but she could have just been polite in front of her granddaughter. Oh, shit. Did he need to talk to her? He wasn't proposing, but should he talk to her? Or Caesar?

"I'll talk to Sophia tomorrow, and don't worry about Caesar. He likes you."

"No, he doesn't."

"He'll learn to like you," she insisted. "You're in our family, so he'll just have to deal with it. You're much more likable and have more manners than Cousin Arturo, and we still invite him over sometimes."

"I don't feel too confident with that answer."

She giggled. "Don't worry. He'll be too focus on his unborn baby and wife to harass you."

"And your mom?"

"We should talk to her together. I have a feeling she likes you. It'll make telling her about us smoother, but she'll interrogate you on your intentions with me, where our relationship is going, etc. It's embarrassing."

"She's only looking out for you."

"I know, but it's still embarrassing." She ducked her head. "So is this."

"What? Us talkin'?"

"No, you staring at me like I'm going to disappear if you look away." Her lips formed a sardonic line. "I'm here, all right? I don't run."

"It ain't that." He shrugged a shoulder. "It's just...you're beautiful, and I don't know if I told you already, but you are. God, you're beautiful."

Her cheeks burned. "Thank you."

His eyes narrowed suddenly. "Wait, you already had plans to talk to Sophia? What the hell were you going to tell her if it didn't work out like this?"

"Oh, I knew it would end up this way. I'm quiet persuasive. I knew I could yank it out of you." She leaned over and kissed him gently, her fingers grasping the hairs at the base of his neck. She smiled yet again at him, and she lowered herself carefully down beside him, heeding his healing injuries, and she nestled herself there under his arm. "However if you'd...said no, I would have told her we're here for her as always, but we'd changed too much to be more than friends."

"I don't know how long I coulda kept it to myself," he disclosed. "Andrea and Caesar saw it. Rosita too. Hell, even Sophia was beginning to see it. Thought I was hidin' it well, but I guess not."

"I know."

"You knew too?" he exclaimed.

"I thought you felt something for me," she imparted, "but I wasn't sure. The first time I saw it was at Phillip's warehouse, when I was patching you up. I thought it was...just being weakened and the blood loss. I thought I was just imagining it, but I saw it again during the trial and before I left for Ohio. There were times I felt it, like when you offered me the loft and when you went undercover to help me find the sniper. When you stayed up all night to talk to me..."

He shook his head. Guess he didn't do inconspicuous well at all. Good thing he didn't have to do it anymore. "Yeah."

"I almost relapsed that night," she confessed. "Being back there with the Monroes, thinking back to those nights on the street...thinking about Sam and my first...time seeing Sophia. I kept trying to block it out, but I couldn't. I gave myself a headache trying, and I called Rosita trying to distract myself, and I got you."

His lips formed a line. "Why didn't you tell me that night?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"You almost? How close was almost?"

"Spencer took me out to a bar, and I almost drank there. At the hotel...my room had a mini fridge, and I had to take a walk to get away from the temptation. I dropped on a bench outside the hotel. That's when I felt my phone in my pocket, when I saw the missed calls and messages."

"He took you to a bar? And you didn't tell him you're—"

"It's already passed, Daryl," she interrupted. "I didn't drink. He caught onto that, and it was fine. I'm fine. I just wanted you to know."

He played with the short strands of silver hairs by her ear. "I suppose."

She leaned against him. "You don't have to hold on to my past for me, you know. It was mine, and I'm making peace with it."

"Kinda our past," he stated. "I caught you in the middle of it."

" _You_ caught _me_?" She laughed at that. "I believe _I_ _caught you_ in the middle of it. I made the first move, Dixon, you remember? I brought you a drink."

He chuckled. "First move? You made all the moves."

"If I hadn't, Sophia never would have happened."

"You don't know that," he protested.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

He didn't bother to argue, simply pressed a kiss to the side of her head, very tentative about it. "I got a question."

"Ask away."

"What can we do? I mean, till I'm out. What are we?"

"I think we're a bit too old for girlfriend/boyfriend, but we'll be together once you're released. We'll be...partners, I suppose. Until then we're...on pause." She looked at him. "And we can't do anything after tonight. I want you to sincerely concentrate on your health, and I have a case, so I won't be by as often."

"So, we got tonight?"

She smirked and teased, "Heavy petting only, Dixon. I'm not that kind of girl."

––

Near midnight the nurse broke up their conversation and sent Carol packing as nicely as she could manage. Daryl was disappointed, having barely been with her it seemed, but she kissed him goodbye and squeezed his hand before heading out with the nurse. He should have been grateful the nurse had given them the hours they had, but he didn't want tonight to end since he couldn't hold her or kiss her until _after_ he was released. He knew she was right, and Rosita had mentioned before he needed to be careful with her, so he would respect her decision. They would be together, as partners, once he was allowed out of this sterile hell. Another thing to look forward to.

In the morning, Carol dropped Keira off at school, allowing Rosita to take Sophia, and she sauntered through the precinct. However before she could even sit down, Lerner greeted her with a broad smile and coffee, catching her up on the case. Carol wasn't sure what to think as Lerner had never done this prior to this moment, but she returned her smile and thanked her.

"Williams." Michonne waved her into her office.

She set her coat and coffee down before meeting her. "Yes, ma'am?"

"It's good to have you back." She smiled. "You look better. How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling...great." She thought about last night with her daughters and Ryan and then with Daryl at the hospital, her chest aching from the unusual level of happiness settling there. "Why?"

"Just wanted to ensure my best detective was back on her game."

"What are we? Chop liver?" Caesar bellowed, slightly joking, but mostly grumpy.

"Loud for chop liver," she retorted. "Don't you have a case?"

"I'll need my partner for that." He handed her the file. "And I'm fine today too, Michonne."

"Are you sure about that?" Carol analyzed the file.

"It was a long night followed by morning sickness, a shit cup of coffee from the cart downstairs, and I broke... Well, let's just say I need a guy who can fix watches." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hate mornings."

"I'll buy you a good cup of coffee on our way to speak to the brother." She smacked his arm with the file. "And I know a guy."

"You do?" Hope poured out of his words, and he trailed behind her. "Seriously? Is he good?"

"He fixed my locket about four years ago when came undone, the hinge?" He nodded. "I called him yesterday for a favor, and he's still in business. He's good."

"Thank God." He wanted to hug her and cry. If Dale came back and found out he'd broken the watch, he would disown him for sure. There would be no questioning it. He should have put it in a drawer, not on the nightstand. Andrea normally slept on the left, but last night she'd rolled to the right...after, so in the morning he'd tried to slam the box off instead of the alarm clock. He knocked it over, and he almost died. He was glad Andrea was preoccupied with morning sickness, or she would have killed him.

She collected her coffee. "You can thank me with lunch if I'm truly helping you out."

"I can't. Andrea and I have lunch plans, but I can buy you lunch tomorrow."

"All right. I suppose that'll do." She tossed the car keys at him. "Let's go, Martinez."

– – –

Sophia spotted her uncle and beamed at him, staying seated until he was close enough to hug, Rosita offered him a smile as a greeting, and he had a seat.

"Hey, kid." He returned her smile. "Didn't expect to see you."

"Mom let me miss school to visit. She would have taken me, but she has a case, and Rosita had to come down anyway for something she won't tell me. I thought it'd be a good time."

He nodded. "How have you been?"

"Great! I got to meet my grandmother, and we went to church." She began to recount everything that happened on Sunday. She missed being able to talk to him. It was never about anything serious, but it was still nice. Dad always worked, but he read to her and had dinner with her. He just wasn't around to talk to, so she went to her uncle or one of the men in the house. She liked talking to her uncle. He was funny, and he was tactless in a good way. He didn't try and divert the subject of a serious question like Dad did when she asked about his work or the "shipments". She didn't care what he did. She wasn't embarrassed by him or ashamed. He was her dad, and he provided for her. He was there for her. She hoped with all that happened, he'd be more open now. He was sometimes, but he was lost in his thoughts most days. She would ask him about it if she thought he'd tell her. She hoped whatever it was wasn't bad. She was sick of bad things and bad news.

"And Mom bought me a phone, and we're going to church with Grandma Gloria this Sunday."

"Sounds like a good week."

"Yeah. She told me about my brother a bit." Her nose crinkled. "I think she's gonna tell me more about him tonight. Ryan's leaving tomorrow, so Mika's staying over with him. It's just us, and she said she wanted to take me somewhere."

"Well, that's good."

"It is."

"So, how's your dad?"

"Getting in trouble." She bit her bottom lip. "He went to Grandma's too, like I told you, but he didn't listen to what the doctor told him. He keeps pushing himself, but he won't listen to anyone. Not even Mom."

Merle shook his head. _Idiot_. "Tell him he best listen, or I'll have Carol kick his ass."

She giggled. "Okay."

"Use those exact words," he instructed. "Just not with your mom around, or she'll try and kick mine." With her privileges as a cop, she could get him alone and whip his ass. He knew it she could. She might not do it, but she could if she wanted to.

"All right, not in front of Mom."

"Speakin' of your mom, how are things between her and Daryl?"

"I dunno. Mom met him really late last night." She shrugged. "I was in bed by the time she got home, but she was happy this morning. I think they talked. It was a good talk from how she was acting. I hope it was a good talk."

He nodded. "I hope so too."

"How are you?" Sophia dared to query. "How...um, how are things?"

He chuckled and kept it light. He knew she was being polite, and it wasn't so horrible. He knew this was meant for him. It was his punishment, and he didn't mind. He got to see his niece, and he'd see his brother one of these days. He wasn't thrilled about being locked up, but it beat being dead or on the run, and the people here weren't too awful. Hell, he grew up with guys just like them. It was familiar, and that was something at least.

Their time ran out, Sophia hugged him goodbye, and Rosita shook his head and smiled at him. Rosita wrapped an arm around Sophia and escorted her from the building. She took her to lunch, and she called Carol to see where she wanted Sophia to go. Rosita had taken a few lost hours, but she told Michonne she'd be back in after lunch. She needed a location, because it was pointless to take her to school now.

Her phone buzzed on the way back to the car, she nearly tripped over the girl, and Sophia frowned, asking what was wrong. She waved it off and lead her to the car, trusting Carol knew what she was doing.

"Do you want me to walk you?" Rosita reached for button to unlatch her seat belt.

"No, I'm good." She hugged her and slid out. "Thank you for taking me to see Uncle Merle and for lunch."

"You're welcome, sweetie."

She closed the door and wet her lips, nibbling on them. She entered the cemetery, finding her mom, and she jogged over to her, embracing her. She felt her kiss the top of her head, and she smiled, smelling coffee and mints on her mom. She didn't know why she smelled like mints. In the time she'd known her mom, she'd never seen her chew gum or eat a mint, so that was weird.

"Hey. How was your visit?"

"Good. I told Merle all about Sunday dinner and church. I didn't tell him about school, because it's boring, and I didn't wanna bore him. Maybe I will next time."

"I'll take you next time."

She grinned. "You will?"

"Yes. I can't have Rosita lugging you around all the time. You are my daughter, and Merle's...family now, so I should get to know him."

She nodded.

"C'mere." She clasped her hand and guided her over to a certain headstone, crouching down. "I want you to meet someone."

Sophia's brows furrowed, but she turned and saw her big brother's grave. She gasped and gazed at her mom. "This is...?"

"Your brother."

Sophia lowered herself down onto her knees by her mom, grass cool on her ankles, and she rested her hands in her lap. "Do you come here a lot?"

"Not really."

She nodded. "It must be hard."

"It is, but I've been by recently. Before I joined you and Mom for dinner, I came here." She sat beside her daughter. "I spoke to him about...what happened with the Monroes, what I planned to do now that I've gotten most of it sorted. I told him about you, and what I have planned for us. All four of us in the future."

"The four of us?"

"Yes, you, Mika, Daryl and me."

"Did you tell Dad about those plans?"

"Not yet. We did speak last night, and we've agreed to take things slow. He believes he can just jump back into things, but it's not that simple. He still has more PT, and while he's wounds are healing, he needs to...sort through what happened to him, whether he likes it or not. I'm going to make sure he receives the best care, and we're going to start that tomorrow. He'll be pissed, but...if we're ever going to have a chance, we need to work through all of this."

"What do you mean?"

"Daryl and I have talked about our relationship, what we want from it, how we feel, and there are...feelings there. He agreed to wait unil he was released from the hospital before we try anything, but I wanted to let you know we'll be together. Er, romantically."

"Like a couple?"

"Yes."

She beamed. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"That's incredible!" She hugged her mom. "I know no matter what we're a family, but it's even better now!" She didn't want to have to choose between her mom and dad. She had heard from kids at school whose parents weren't together anymore how they bickered and sometimes put them in the middle of it. She didn't want that to happen with her mom and dad, and now it wasn't. They would be together, and she didn't have to choose. She didn't have to deal with possible stepparents one day either. She hoped anyway.

She smiled once Sophia sat back and reached into her overcoat pocket. "I have a gift for you."

She watched her hand. "A gift? You didn't have to get me anything. My birthday's not for a while."

"I wanted to." She held out the box she'd wrapped last night. "It's...an apology for my leaving and for not telling you when I was shot."

She accepted the box and ripped away the blue and white stripped wrapping paper, revealing a box. She pried it off and found an oval locket inside. Her head snapped up to her mom's neck, seeing it was similar to that one, just a size or two smaller.

"Open it." Her sapphire eyes twinkled with excitement.

Sophia lifted it from the cotton and opened it, finding a picture of her mom and big brother on a snowy winter day, all red nosed and giggling. Mom had her arms around him from behind, a beanie on her head with curls spilling out, and Sam had a grip on her arm with his hands, his hair hidden by a hat. They were contented, and Sophia could feel the emotion pouring out of the picture at her. She could also hear his laughter.

"Look." Carol reached over and tapped the other side with her fingertip.

Her eyes moved over to one of her and them. All three of them. It was before Grandma had started telling her and Dad about Mom's childhood. Mom had brought them a few snacks since there was a delay in dinner, and they talked for about ten minutes. She was in between them on the couch, Dad couldn't take his eyes off of Mom, and Mom was tickling her because she'd playfully pouted about dinner being so late. She didn't know who took the picture, but she presumed it was Grandma Gloria. Or Caesar. It dawned on her that this was their first family picture. _The first of many_ , she told herself.

"You have us with you," Carol unfastened it and clasped it around her neck, "no matter what."

She clamped her hand around it. "I love it, Mom."

"I'm glad." She gathered the wrapping paper and box. "I wanted you to have a part of us with you, me and Sam, like I had you and Sam with me all these years. Mom sent me that picture of us yesterday morning, and I asked the guy who made my locket to make one for you. It's engraved too."

She dropped her eyes to the gold locket and turned it over, seeing a date. "It's today's date."

"Yes, it's the day I promise to never leave you or let you down or let you be hurt. It's the day we start being a real family. My job is demanding, and it takes me away most of the time. It takes a lot out of me, and I know I can't always be there, and I will miss things, but I'll try my best to be around for you and your sister. I love you with my entire heart, Sophia, and I'll try to do better. I swear."

"Mom." Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she hugged her tightly, her fingers digging into her back. "I love you too. I love you so much, Mommy."

Carol tried not to cry. She didn't want to cry again, but she couldn't keep the tears away. She held her little girl closer, praying she would be able to keep this promise. She didn't want to let her down or repeat what happened with Sam. She wanted to do better, be around, for her and Mika. She wanted to know her children, fight with them, bribe them, tease them, punish them when they were acting out. She wanted to be a parent in a way she hadn't been for Sam. She didn't know if she'd achieve this goal or not, but she was going to try her best. She hoped her best was enough.


	34. Epilogue: Infinite Possibilities Part 1

_A/N: This was cut due to length, and part two is still being edited._

* * *

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

 _One Year Later_

 _If you must live, darling one, just live_

"No, we agreed to meet again for her birthday," Carol chided good-naturedly through the phone, finishing the last of the paperwork to release their once thought perp. "Well, at least down there."

"Her birthday's in a couple weeks. What do you want us to do? Come up there?"

She smirked. "You want me to invite you all here, don't you?"

"Yes, that's my endgame here." He chuckled. "We had a lot of fun last time, and your mom is great. They really hit it off, and it's not like we have many people to celebrate with us here, so just invite us up. We don't have to spend the actual day of with Gloria, but—"

"Please, once Mom knows you're all coming up, there will be no stopping her." She shook her head. "It's fine by me, Aiden. I don't have the room for anybody to stay with me, but I can host the party. I don't mind to. Besides I do need to repay you guys for what you did for Mika's birthday."

"We're family. You don't have to repay us."

"Tell that to someone who doesn't know where you bought the cake."

He laughed. "All right then."

"Does Deanna know we're planning this?"

"Nope." That was Spencer. "She thinks we're coming up to meet the newest Martinez, and Dad's helping us. He has her convinced we're having a small dinner here when we get back. She'll never see it coming."

"Is that a good thing?" She glanced up at movement, finding Rosita pointing to her watch and urging her to hurry up. "Actually just call me back tonight. I have an appointment, so you'll have to excuse me."

"All right, bye," Aiden called at the same time Spencer said, "Bye, sis."

"Be safe. Goodbye." She hung up. "How late will I be if leave now?"

"Only twenty or thirty minutes."

She blanched. "Are you serious? It's not that far away."

"No, I'm joking." She handed Carol her coat. "You'll be probably be there with three minutes to spare."

"You're not funny. I don't need this today, Rosita." She snatched her coat. "And thank you."

"You're welcome." She smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, detective."

She squeezed her arm before scurrying out of the precinct. She had a few errands to run before she met with them. She hadn't stated an arrival time. She meant to, but things were so frenzied at the loft. She barely had time to think let alone say when she would come down to meet them again. She was thankful just to have gotten the address right. She'd only met them once, but that was at the hospital. She could have just looked them up through work, she supposed, but luckily Sophia left notebooks everywhere, and she was accustom to straining to hear voices. She had done it many times the past couple of cases they'd worked. It was a good thing her hearing was as sharp as ever, or they'd have arrested a fish. She would blame Caesar's mistake on lack of sleep coupled with ear-piercing wails of an infant. Kid undoubtedly was his.

She called Caesar on her way to the apartment, having to stop by and pick up a gift anyway. She remembered him griping about a toy he needed to pick up for the baby, but he was too busy, and Andrea was couldn't even move. Carol had to practically feed her. Any sudden movement and the baby woke and wailed. It was more sensitive to motion than any bomb or explosive chemical. She had learned that the hard way last night. Her poor girls. They were up most of the night, and she found them passed out cold on her bed this morning. She had slept in the living room. Accidentally, but she had slept on a couch many times while working a case. She was happy to have at least been covered by a blanket and given a pillow. She was so exhausted she didn't even wake when they did either of those things. She could imagine why Caesar had thought he heard fish.

"Hey." She ambled through the aisles, trying to find a brightly colored stuffed animal. "How are you?"

"I'm dying."

She laughed. "I'm sorry. I would offer to babysit again, but I don't think the girls can handle it two nights in a row."

"Keira's becoming a permanent fixture at Mom's," he softly chimed. "Yeah, Mom picks her up from school, and she doesn't want to come home. I should be hurt, but I barely have enough energy to talk to you. I'm not even holding the phone. I can't grip it."

"And you wanted to have two screaming babies at the same time."

"Mistake. That would be a mistake." He moaned. "Thank God Andrea's smarter than I am."

"Yeah." She spotted a Minnie Mousy toy and grasped it. "Plus with the baby, you two don't even have the energy to look at each other, let alone try for a third."

"True."

"Are you laying on the steps again?" She checked the price tag. "I thought we talked about this."

"No, you talked to me, and I fell asleep."

"Why don't you invite Dale down to take care of the baby while you and Andrea get a hotel room and sleep?"

"They're coming down, but only in a couple weeks near the fifthteenth. It's the only time they're both available, and Andrea would rather they both be here. I think she's trying to kill me, Carol."

"I doubt it, but who knows. You did do this to her."

"What? No. No, no, no, no. It was a joint effort."

"Okay. So, green or purple?" She stroked the soft material of the baby blankets in front of her.

"Either one's fine. Just no clowns, please. Amy bought us a clown blanket, and I don't know if it was a joke or she forgot Andrea's not fond of clowns, but I'm pretty sure she caught it on fire while I was at the store, because it's gone. It's just...gone, and she asked me to buy more matches last night."

"I'll go with green." She knew Andrea would lecture her on spoiling their child, but she didn't care. She barely saw the newest addition to their family, and she was going to buy...stuff for them. Besides she already had to pick something up for her visit. It was sign from the universe. Carol had to spoil the hell out of the baby.

"Are you coming by today?"

"I can't today, but tomorrow I'll be over. I have to drop the girls off at school, and I'll be there around ten. I'll make breakfast. What would you guys like? I'll stop by the store since you only have casseroles in your fridge." She collected another stuffed animal. "And don't say coffee. I already know that."

"I'll eat whatever you cook me."

"Okay."

"But Andrea's feeling self-conscious since she had the baby, so I'd stick with egg whites and stuff like that. However I'd also make pancakes. Just toss some fruit on it."

"Why don't you let me talk to her?"

"No, I can't. She just fell asleep." He gaze over at her bundled up figure on the couch, strands of hair covered her beautiful face and the bags under her eyes that mirrored his from sleep deprivation. "I couldn't wake her up."

"Are you sure the baby's all right? Go see your pediatrician."

"Why? What do you think's wrong?" Apprehension rose up in his voice and clung to his heart. "D—do you think it's serious?"

"Well, babies don't normally cry like that. It could be colic."

"Christ, you just scared the shit out of me." He exhaled roughly. "Okay. I'll—I'll talk to her. It's not too late. If I leave now."

"Have Mom take the baby," Carol persuaded. "You could take a nap, be refreshed when they come back, and I don't want you falling asleep on the road with the baby in the backseat."

"Hey, I am more careful and alert than that, but I'll call Mom. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Was Sam colic, or...did you bust out Google for us?" he mused.

"On the last case we worked, the victim's baby was colic. You'd already left for paternity leave, and I made the connection."

"Well, thanks all the same. I should call Mom, but I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good luck."

"Same to you. Now get out of that damn store before you blow you're entire paycheck."

"I'm not—"

"Out," he interjected. "I know how you are with baby stuff. I took you shopping for Sam, remember? You tried to buy the whole damn store."

She chuckled. "Fine. I'll put some things back. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodbye."

"Bye."

She slipped her phone in her pocket and ditched about a dozen toys on her way her out. She bought and separated the gifts, leaving one bag in the car and hauling the other into the apartment she had parked outside of. She climbed to the forth floor as she was already behind in schedule, and she needed to stretch her legs. She'd been behind a desk for the past two days, making phone calls and filing paperwork. She hated it, but they all had jobs to do. She would take Lerner out for their next case, and Caesar's fill-in would man the desk, see how he liked it.

She shifted the bag to her left hand and knocked on the door, hoping she wasn't too interrupting anything. She should have named a time. Oh, well, it was too late for that.

The door opened and a wide smile greeted her.

"You made it." He stepped aside to let her in. "Have a seat anywhere. I'll go get them."

She nodded and sat on the couch. She had been here once more, but the circumstances were vastly different. Caesar also had been the one to drive her there, and their stay was brief. She was thrilled to be back for a happier reason, to see both of them for the first time in seven months, especially as her first encounter with the couple together was curt.

"Carol." The young woman handed the seven month old to her father and tackled the detective who rose to shake her hand in a bear hug. "It's so good to see you!" She laughed. "Noah said you were coming, but I wasn't sure."

Carol hugged her back. "I had to repay you for not bringing a gift to the hospital."

"Please, we had Caesar kidnap you." She released her. "I'm so glad we got to see you before we left!"

The apartment was littered with boxes, the packed and labelled ones were pushed against the bar in the kitchen, and the unused ones were resting on top of the bar. Only the baby's items were untouched, which was understandable but odd as the walls were stripped bare of their pictures and only holes remained. It was a contradiction to look at somehow.

"Oh, here." Beth sat beside Carol and folded the blanket she'd been holding over her lap. "You didn't get to hold her last time."

Last time was Caesar inviting her out for a late night snack for Andrea, and instead of taking to the store with him, he dragged her to the hospital. She didn't know why she was there at four in the morning, and she was worried about his baby, but he assured her everything was all right. He led her to Beth's room, and she was surprised at first. She hadn't forgotten about them, or them about her, but this was the last place she expected to be at four in the morning with her brother.

Beth explained. She had called Caesar and convinced him to bring her down, but they had a case to work, and Beth had a boat load of family to greet. Caesar had checked on the time, but Beth said it was fine. She hadn't been sleeping well lately, because she kept watching her baby, and nobody could make her stop. It worked out in the end, and they thanked Carol for all she'd done for them. They hadn't forgotten, and they wouldn't. Then they told her their baby's name, Faith Carol Bridges. She wanted to protest, her actions weren't worth naming their child after, it was simply her job, but they didn't let her. Beth had been trying to find a middle name for months, and Noah was just grateful she'd gotten over the Lee, Leigh, and Ashley phase.

Beth had wanted Carol to hold her, to know the life she'd saved all those months ago, but it was too early for that. Carol didn't mind. She was happy to at least see the little bundle, and she thanked Caesar for bringing her. She was embraced by Beth so tight she thought she'd never let go of her, and Noah simply shook her hand, unable to thank her any more than he—than they—already had. She was pink in the cheeks by the time they left, Beth insisted they keep a picture, and Caesar had taken one of them on her phone. He'd learn to never question a pregnant woman, or a woman who'd just given birth.

Afterward they really had to leave to get Andrea a snack. He dropped Carol off at home, and she opened a new album that morning. She taped the picture of Beth and Faith on the first page. She wrote their names underneath the photo and made a note at the top of the page, closing it. She caught the sunrise that morning and placed the album back on the shelf, where it still was, only more of its pages contained pictures of their survivors. She still kept one of those they'd lost, but she needed to remember that some lived too. Some lived, and that should be celebrated. Life should always be celebrated, even in the midst of tragedy.

Back in the apartment and before Carol could say anything, Noah had set the infant on Carol's lap, taking a seat in the armchair. Carol wrapped the blanket over her, observing the biracial baby. Her skin tone was a shade lighter than Noah's, her big eyes shining up at her like her mother's, and she had a mess of loose dirty blonde curls on her head. She was precious, with her little nose like her father's, and she reached for Carol's locket instantly.

Beth smiled and caught her daughter's grabby hands. "She loves jewelry. She's taken my necklace so many times I stopped wearin' it."

"She's adorable." Carol tucked her locket underneath her blouse. "So, you're moving back home?"

"Yes. Noah can finish up school, and there's a job open for him, and I can work on my art. There's a new program. Maggie found it, and it's great."

"Are you really okay with that?" Carol glanced at Noah.

"Yeah." He nodded. "I don't want to raise her in the city, and we talked about it. We talked to her father about it, and he agreed to babysit for us. We have an apartment lined up, and like Beth said, I have a job waiting for me. She can focus on her art, and it's not like Georgia's our final stop. We may move back or somewhere else one day."

"You seem happy." She hugged the baby girl in her lap closer, those loose curls brushing against her cheek, and she felt Faith gripping her finger. "When do you leave?"

"In a week." Beth hopped up and made her way to the fridge. "Daddy's bringing a truck up on Friday, and Mag's gonna join him." She pointed to the fridge. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thank you. I had water on my way here." She adjusted Faith and offered the her an pinkie, which she accepted and drooled on. She smiled and felt her chest ache. She had missed these moments with her own daughter, but she had many more to look forward to.

Beth sat on the armchair where Noah was, handing him a glass of lemonade. "How are you? It's been seven months, and we didn't get a chance to ask before."

"I'm well. It's been one heck of a ride, but I'm well."

"That's good." Noah smiled at her. "You look better than the last time we met. Uh, the first time."

"Yeah, so do you."

He chuckled, and Beth grasped his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "Yeah, things are much better now."

"Is there something else you want to share with me?" She narrowed her eyes at the kids before her, and they laughed nervously, and she wondered why for about a half a second. "You're engaged."

Beth nodded. "We weren't going to get married just because I was pregnant, but after what happened... Well, we decided to get married. I don't wanna be with anybody else, and Noah's not gonna get any luckier than with me."

"Hey!"

She giggled. "I'm kidding." She kissed his cheek and slumped down in the chair. They were both pretty small, so they could sit side by side and not be uncomfortable. "We wanted to invite you to the wedding. My dad wants to meet you."

"He really does. He tried to call you the night he came down to check in on Beth." Noah liked Hershel. They had a rough start due to the whole I-don't-know-you-yet-your-baby-is-having-my-baby, but Maggie and he had gotten to know each other somewhat prior to Carol finding Beth. She smoothed the bumps out, and Hershel even called him son now and then. All it really took was Faith. One look at his granddaughter, and he was putty. Noah was grateful his daughter would have such a kind, wise man for a grandfather. His dad was fine too, but he was a goof. He once tried to tape Jayvon, the older twin, to a door. He was curious to see if he'd stay up. He used to hold Antoine at the waist and make him dance, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the entire world. He would make Noah record it and send it to his mom. She wasn't amused by the tape thing, but Jay was fine. He didn't get hurt, and now he participated in Dad's antics. Mom still wasn't amused.

"I don't know." Carol was never fond of weddings. She had been to two in her entire life, mostly due to Caesar and Rick forcing her, but she would have to attend more if Sophia or Keira or Mika one day married. Or her brothers. Or Rosita. Damn it. There was no avoiding it, was there? "I'll have to check my calendar."

"You don't have to come," Beth assured her. "We'd just appreciate it if you did. You can bring your kids and husband. We don't mind. We already invited Caesar and Andrea and their kids. It's on our family's farm, so there's plenty of space. It's going to a simple wedding, so you don't even have to get real dressy either."

"She intends to be barefoot for the reception," Noah tossed in.

"I hate heels. I'd rather not wear them after the ceremony."

"I thought you were wearing cowboy boots," he murmured. "Didn't Maggie buy you a pair already?"

"We're still working it out." Beth turned to Carol. "We'll send you an invitation. If you do decide to come, I promise it won't be over the top. I just want family, and the detectives who saved me and my Faith."

Carol couldn't help the smile that cross her lips, her eyes drifting down to Faith who nibbled on her pinkie, and she exhaled. She was going to the wedding. Although she should correct them, she was still a Ms.

––

"Caesar!" Andrea shot up from the couch at the sound of silence. She groped for her phone, checking the time, and she jumped up. "Caesar!"

"What?" He was at the end of the stairs. "Are you okay?"

"The baby." She darted to the kitchen. "I—I overslept. I didn't have time to prepare a bottle. I was suppose to, so you could feed her while I showered. Damn it."

"Andrea." He smirked at his wife who was damn adorable in her wrinkled tank top and pajama bottoms with one leg rolled up to her knee. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" She ran a hand through her hair and pulled it back, adjusting the waistband of her pants and the leg. "Wait, I don't—I don't hear anything." She paled. "Is—Oh, God, what happened?"

"Calm down." He turned the kitchen light on. "Mom came by about two to take Emelita to her pediatrician, Olivia. Carol thinks she might be colic, and I looked it up. I think she's right. They'll be back by five. Mom wants to introduce her to some family on their way back."

"Colic?" She'd read about it in one of the books Amy had given her. Nearly three month of crying must have scrambled her brain. She couldn't remember how Keira was at two months, so it didn't occur to her. Thank God for Carol. She couldn't handle another two months like this. She might leave her with Gloria until this was sorted. Gloria loved her grandchildren, so it wasn't cruel. Shaking her head, she mentioned, "Keira wasn't colic."

"It's kind of a mystery." He shrugged a shoulder. "A couple of my cousins' have babies with colic. They gave me a couple tips, so let's hope they work. If that's what this is."

She nodded. "So, it's just us?"

"And Keira. She's finishing up her literature homework. Second grade homework is a killer, but her teacher likes me."

"That's good." She rubbed at her eye. "I need a shower. I smell like...baby powder and throw up."

He chuckled. "I ran you a bath with all the works. I figured you could use it."

She smiled. "Thank you, Caesar."

"You're welcome."

She crossed over to him and met his gaze. "Do...you want to join me?"

"I can't." He wished he could. "I told Keira I'd help her with her craft project for the baby's room, and we do need more decorations and less stuffed animals. Besides she can't use spray paint."

"Fine. I'll enjoy the bubbles all by myself." She smirked at him.

"Why are you so cruel?"

"Because I can be." She set a hand on his chest. "By the way, your mother wants to do pictures for the three month mark. I told her you were in charge of that."

"Why do we need pictures?" he griped. "Can't we just tell her when she's old enough to understand us that she was a nightmare?"

"No. We made a book of pictures for Keira, and we're doing it for Emelita too. Besides my assistant bought us those really cute month by month outfits, and I told her I'd let her see the pictures. It's a few days, so just do it for me, please."

"Fine, but I'm going to complain the entire time."

"With Gloria taking the pictures? You'll be lucky to even be noticed." She patted his chest. "I have a bath to take, but enjoy your arts and crafts."

"I will." He caught her before she climbed the stairs. "What do you want for dinner, by the way?"

"I'll make something."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Caesar, I think I can handle making dinner."

"No, it's just...you have to feed Em when Mom brings her home since you didn't prepare a bottle, and I was in the mood for stuffed bell peppers. I have to run to the store to pick up spray paint anyway since I didn't get the right color."

"It clashes with the crib," she reminded him.

"It's green! Green is green!"

"It wasn't green, Caesar. It was more of a teal."

He huffed, "Would you like to pick out the paint?"

"No, but try for more a mint green."

"Whatever. Green is green."

She chuckled. "No, it's really not."

"So, I am making dinner?" He folded his arms and changed the subject. "Or are you?"

"You can make dinner. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to cry for about twenty minutes then enjoy the lukewarm water for ten minutes and prepare myself for when Gloria and Em are home."

He placed a kiss on the corner of her lips. "I'll be right back."

"Pick me up some white wine. I can't have much because of my breast milk, but I could use a glass." She might have a glass before bed. It could help her sleep, and she could sleep the alcohol out of her system.

"Okay." He swiped his keys off the counter. "Don't have too much fun without me."

"I'll try."

He drifted toward the door. When Andrea found out she was pregnant, he had hoped for a boy. He wanted their child to be healthy, but he was leaning toward boy. He wanted to be surprised, so he entirely coerced Andrea into waiting until the day this baby entered the world. She had wanted to know, and he felt bad for about a week then for some reason she came around to the idea of not finding out until birth of her own free will. She had agreed, but she still bickered here and there. Then one night she said it was a good choice. He didn't know if she was trying to throw him off, or if she did like it, but she stuck by it. He even called Dr. S to see if she'd found out the sex without him, but she hadn't. She actually wanted to wait.

Of course their newborn was a girl, as Rosita and eventually Carol and Mom had guessed. He didn't even care. He thought it would bother him more, because they only had one more shot. There was no point trying to aim for four kids, because Andrea would kill him. He was ecstatic to have another little girl. She was beautiful, favoring Andrea more than him this time, with light blonde whiskers on her head and round gray eyes. She only maybe his nose and ears, everything else was Andrea's. When he held her for the first time, he could feel a part of his heart dedicate itself to her. He wasn't sure how much of his heart belonged to him anymore. If they had a third child, he was fucked. He would be ready to kick any asshole's ass who hurt any of them. And if they found themselves in an abusive relationship, he would have to kill someone. Andrea would bury the body, and Carol would procure an alibi for them. That wasn't even a threat. He'd do the same for Sophia and Mika.

Or—and this was more likely—Andrea could teach them that marine hand-to-hand combat stuff. Mika was too sweet to hurt anybody, Sophia too, but they needed to know how to fight. It could only help.

––

"Well, well, well," Merle chortled, "if it isn't my little brother."

Daryl smirked. "I've been here before."

"Not alone. You always have the cop and the kids with you." His mouth twisted into a sardonic grin to the left. "How's domestic life treatin' you?"

"It ain't like that, Merle."

"'Course it is."

"The girls are fine," Daryl supplied, ignoring the previous question and response. "They're doin' real well in school. Mika's even on honor roll. Kid loves science, which kinda sucks, 'cause me and Carol gotta help her with her science fair projects. It ain't simple either, like a volcano. She's doing intense shit, like the affect of lighting on fruit flies. Carol got one of the geeks in the lab to help her with it, but we're sure she's gonna win. Hard to top that." Or so he hoped.

Merle gave a nod. "How's the kid?"

"She's great. She's talking about being a cop too one day, and she's got Carol stress out. It's hilarious to see her question her mom about it, but I'm with Carol. I'd rather she did...anything else, but it's her life. She'll change her mind a million times before she graduates high school anyway." He rested his arms on the table. "She's gotten good at taking care of her cousin—Caesar and Andrea's little girl—and she's babysitting Mika now. Carol wanted to wait one more year, so it's a test run when we don't have anybody else to watch 'em, but she's great at it. We don't let her cook, but that's why we have a microwave."

"She and Carol all right?"

"Yeah. They're close. She tells Carol everything when she's around, and Carol keeps makin' time for the girls. They spend time together doing homework or just hanging out. She's so different now. I mean, it's great for the girls and herself. She needed to cut back at work."

"Is it good for you, lover boy?"

He glared. "Don't call me that, and it ain't about me."

"Thought y'all were together now that you got a clean bill of health."

He didn't want to talk about their relationship. There were many things he would discuss with Merle, making jokes and earning glares from the people around them, but that wasn't one. He would catch him up on how his niece and Mika were, because Merle loved Sophia, and he was fond of Mika. She always schooled him about everything when she tagged along for visits, and Merle got her to laugh and be a kid sometimes. It was one of rare times he saw Merle being more than just his asshole older brother. With the girls, he was a good guy. He was cool Uncle Merle. He wasn't some guy locked up on various charges, and Daryl saw how having the girls around brought out a lighter side to his brother. He had them tag along as much as possible. Merle deserved to get to be someone else, at least for one visit.

Merle could see his brother wasn't going to talk about it, so he opted for, "Is it good between you two?"

Daryl smiled, "Yes, it's good."

"All right. Wanna hear the latest prison gossip?" Merle joked.

Daryl chuckled. "Whole reason I came down here."

It'd been a challenging year for him. Once he was free from the hospital, he had to figure out what the hell he was going to do with the rest of his life. He had asked Carol to give him some time, to just let him be alone while he figure it out, and he didn't know if she told the girls to leave him be or not, but he was rarely checked in on. He was grateful. He didn't know what to do. He only became the Archer because he couldn't fit into the world. He had no appealing qualities, and he wasn't good at anything. Now he had his injuries to take into consideration. While he could still mostly do all he did before, he did have a weakened arm. He couldn't even lift a bowling ball. It was depressing and embarrassing, and he knew Mika felt bad. Once before he'd figured it out, Carol forced him out of the loft for a "family night". They went bowling and had pizza. He couldn't lift the ball, but Carol found him left-handed ball and helped him adjust to using it. She even bought him a weight to help strengthen his left arm since he'd need it more now. Woman was a God sent.

More to the point, he just had no clue what jobs he could apply for. He didn't even graduate high school, for fuck's sake. He had wasn't good with people. He wasn't good with much of anything, and he didn't want Carol to provide for all of them. He wanted to help out. Sophia was his daughter too, and he could something. He had to try and do something. So eventually he came out of his room and with the aid of Rosita and Carol, he found a job. It wasn't what he thought he'd be doing, but it was something. He did know a lot about guns, and he was good with kids. He had to make an effort for adults and teenagers, but he wasn't the only instructor. Last Halloween Shane had given him a few tips on how to deal with hyper kids who come with their parents. (Carol didn't want the girls to go trick-or-treating in the city, so to the suburbs where Lori and Shane lived. Carl loved it. He typically only had one friend to go with, but he had four that night. Caesar and Andrea came down too. It was a good night.)

"You comin' back the same time next week?" Merle inquired before their visit was over.

"Yeah, but it's just gonna be me again. The girls have school, and Carol has to pick 'em up."

He nodded.

"But we're all comin' down the week after," he promised. "They'll be happy to see you."

"'Course they are. I'm the best thing in their lives." He smirked. "With you and the cop at home? Pssh, I feel sorry for those girls."

"Asshole." He hugged him briefly, getting a brotherly slap on the back that stung more than usual. "I'll see you next week. Stay out of trouble."

"We'll see."

Daryl chuckled and watched his brother shuffled toward the guarded door. He exhaled and spun on his heel, taking his leave before it hit him how shitty things really were for his brother.

– – –

"Sorry I'm so late." Carol hung up the second bag of baby stuff on the hook by her coat so she didn't forgot it for tomorrow.

"It's fine." Sophia pushed up on the coffee table to stand. "Uncle Spence called. He said you were picking up the cake?"

"It's not for two weeks. Why is he already divvying up duties?" She shook her head. "Never mind. Did you finish your homework?"

"Yes. Mika did too, but she's in her room. I think she's on the phone with Ryan."

"Ryan or Lizzie?" A couple weeks ago, Bob decided it'd be good for Lizzie to talk to her sister too. She chose to call once a month, so this was her monthly call. She had wished Lizzie would make it every other week, but baby steps. She would get there. She was doing much better, curbing her...tendencies, and Ryan was hopeful she'd be home soon. He still wanted Carol to raise Mika for at least a year and a half after she came home. And if Mika felt comfortable staying with them, they would get it sorted. If not, Carol was more than happy to raise her. She was a good girl with a bright future, and Carol was already trying to figure out how to help Mika shape her future. Rosita was making bets on which college she'd attend. Carol didn't bet, but Caesar had, and they were working together. It wasn't fair, but neither was Rosita.

Carol blew out a soft sigh at the pool they had going. "It's all right if it's Lizzie."

"I think it's Lizzie, but I don't know." She shrugged a shoulder. "Oh, Dad got us pizza for dinner."

"Daryl's home?"

"Yeah. He came home around six. We saved you some pizza. It's in the fridge."

"I'm fine, but thank you."

"I think he's bummed about Uncle Merle," Sophia blurted. "He wasn't himself at dinner. He asked us how he were, but he was spacing. Mika wanted to cheer him up, but I thought it'd be best if it was you. He doesn't seem to want our company anyway."

"He's probably tired."

"I know when Dad's tired, Mom. That wasn't tired."

She frowned. "I'll talk to him. So, you've finished your homework and chores?"

"Yes. And I called Grandma. She wanted to me to tell you Sunday dinner wasn't optional this week."

She wondered why. "Thanks for the message. Why don't you get ready for bed? You have school, and it's picture day. You know how your Grandmas are. They'll want pictures in about twenty varying sizes, the magnets and puzzles and—God, they're going to set this company up for the next four months."

Sophia giggled. "Okay." She hugged her tightly. "Good night, Mom. I love you."

"Good night." She kissed the top of her head. "I love you. Tell Mika to get ready once her phone call is over."

"Yep." She padded up the stairs.

She stacked the girls' books on the coffee table and tossed the pillows back on the couch, helping herself to the grapes Sophia had been snacking on moments ago. She tossed the stem and placed the bowl in the sink, noticing how clean the kitchen was. It had been a mess this morning. She and Mika had made waffles, and Daryl and Sophia walked in as they tried to brush flour off their clothes. They hadn't failed making waffles, simply tripped each other, and Mika was holding the flour. They had to shower, and Daryl made the waffles with Sophia. It was good thing Mika had woken up early to give her a hand with breakfast. They carpooled with Andrea—or Caesar, depending who was out of bed first—and she didn't have time to take them due to court. Thank God her little niece was an excellent alarm clock.

She wandered toward Daryl's bedroom. They had kept the study as his room, and he enjoyed the space from the girls and their afternoon noise. Many nights she'd find him gazing out the windows out at the city, lost in his thoughts, and she'd observe him for about ten minutes before he realized she was there. She couldn't count how many late night talks they had when he was released from the hospital. It spared Caesar from having to talk with her. He was a dead man most days, so he was thankful. He actually came over and thanked Daryl then passed out on their couch. Mika and Daryl doodled on his face. It was the worst, but she gave him a curled mustache.

Daryl was lying on his bed in the dark, eyes on the ceiling, the moonlight from the window shining in unfiltered as his curtains were pulled back, and he expelled a sigh that told her it was one of many.

"Rough day?" She hovered in the doorway.

He nodded.

"How's Merle?"

"He's all right. He asked about the girls." He pillowed his left hand under his head. "Asked about us."

"He normally does." She cut to the chase. "You don't seem like it went very well, so did he say something? Or...are you feeling guilty?"

"He shouldn't be in there."

"Then who should be?"

"I know he kill a lot of people with that 37 mil and tryin' to get to us, but he's my brother. I know legally he deserves to be in there, however legally so do I."

"Dar—"

"I know I have Sophia, and I know if I ever told the authorities who I am, it'd fuck everything up, but it's killin' me."

She entered the room. "Daryl, he'll always be your brother, no matter where he goes or if he dies. Merle is always Merle, and you're always Daryl. You can't change that, even if he's behind bars, and you're not. Legally, you should be in prison too, but if you were, can you imagine how difficult things would for Sophia? Do you have any idea what that would do to her?"

"I know, Carol, and—"

"I'm not talking about her mental state," she interjected. "I'm talking about her as a minor. She'd be thrown into the system, and as I don't know what the hell her birth certificate says or even is, I don't know that I could have gotten custody of her. Sure, I'm a cop, and I would have glowing recommendations, but being a cop is kind of a negative too. Besides the social worker who helps us out from time to time hates me, and she would intentionally sabotage my case.

"Sophia would be in the system for likely years until I managed to get her out. Who knows what kind of people she'd encounter, and you know exactly what's out there. You took her in partly for that reason, so she wouldn't be tainted or broken by the assholes in this world."

Another sigh. "I know that, Carol. It doesn't help to have you recite my own thoughts to me. Expect for the social worker bit." He rubbed his forehead. "He's locked up every day for the rest of his life, and I know it was his choice, but I still feel like shit because of it."

"He's a grown ass man. He did what was right. You have nothing to feel like shit about."

"Well, I hate to disagree with you, but some part of me does."

"Then talk to Merle about it. Lay it all out on the table and talk to him." She locked eyes with him. "He might have answers for you. You never know until you ask."

He chewed on his bottom lip, not replying.

She crossed her arms. "He'll call tomorrow to speak with Sophia, so there's your chance. If not, you have next week to do it face to face. You need to resolve this."

"'Cause you of all people know how shit eats at you," he muttered.

She stepped back. "I have to get up early, so I need you to take care of the girls' breakfast. Cereal's fine, just make sure they eat, okay? And you better eat too."

He nodded.

"Thanks for picking up dinner. It's too late for me to cook for them."

"What kept you out so late?" He studied her. "Beth?"

"No. That visit kept me out until three, but I had to make a few more stops before coming home." She stumbled forward, having lost her footing. "I'll be out late again tomorrow night, but Mom's taking the girls. She's been into crafts lately, so she's commandeering the girls to help her with them. Lord knows when I'll see them again."

He chuckled. "You okay there?"

"I'm fine, just been on my feet most of the day, and I haven't eaten since...five? I'm not sure if it was five or six." She shook her head. "But I need sleep more than I need to eat, and I can eat at Caesar's tomorrow."

"Carol, it's goin' on midnight." He sat up. "The hell haven't you eaten dinner yet?"

"We had a big breakfast," she argued.

"Yeah, me and the girls we. You ain't a part of that we. You had a waffle and some damn fruit."

"I've gone longer without food, and I'm fine. I'm exhausted. I don't have the energy to even chew, so please don't fight with me about my diet."

"I am gonna fight with you."

"No, because I'm leaving."

"Carol." He was on his feet in an instant and blocked the door. "No, you're not just gonna walk out of this."

"Then I'm sleeping down here, and you can wake up with me at five."

"Why are you so pigheaded?"

"I am tired, Daryl. I am so tired that merely talking to you is pissing me off, because every other part of my body has shut down for the night. We had Em here last night, and I barely slept. I woke up early to make breakfast, and now all I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep. So please move out of my way."

He frowned but complied. "You'll eat tomorrow?"

"When I wake up." She smiled a little. "Good night."

"Good night."

She squeezed a couple of his fingers on her way out, and he wondered what had happened today with her. She wasn't going to tell him, but he might be able to poke it out of her. Later. For now, he'd let her rest and figure out how the hell he was going to talk to Merle about his issue. That would be a horrible conversation, but he needed to do it face to face. Merle deserved that much.

– – –

Emelita had woken up at five-forty the next morning, Carol had caught her before she woke her parents and snuggled her close for an early morning walk. It calmed her down and lulled her back to sleep. Carol smiled at the little girl in her arms and kissed her forehead, returning home. She found Caesar in the kitchen making coffee, and he grinned at the sight of her.

"I nearly called the cops, but I checked the fridge." He gently took his daughter from his sister's arms. "I'll go put her down, but I'll help you."

When he returned, they began to cook. Carol was in charge of pancakes and Andrea's egg whites, and Caesar was making some monster of an omelet with his portion of the stove. He also manned the bacon, and Carol had to stop him from eating most of it.

"You've lost weight," he randomly stated.

"What?" She set a plate of pancakes on the table. "No, I haven't."

"I have eyes, and you're smaller. Not in height, so it's weight." He frowned. "Why are you trying to lose weight? You're small enough, I assure you."

"I'm not, and I haven't. It's just a new outfit." She pointed to the stairs. "Go wake up your wife and child. I'll feed my niece. Andrea should be able to eat without cradling an infant."

Waking them was easy, but Andrea was reluctant to let Carol feed Emelita. She knew she could do it, but she felt guilty already. Carol had bought them breakfast, cooked it, bought gifts for the baby and Keira, and now she was going to feed the baby. She felt bad, but Carol wasn't having any of it. She decided to leave her to it, and she would buy her coffee or take her to lunch one of these days.

Caesar departed with Keira once they'd finished eating to take her to school, leaving Andrea with the cleanup, and Carol burped Emelita, silently gnawing her lip bloody. Andrea caught on and frowned, putting the leftover bacon in the microwave so Caesar could polish it off when he returned.

"Is everything all right?" She pushed a plate of warmed up pancakes toward her sister-in-law, taking her daughter and sitting beside her.

"No." She met her eyes. "I have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"A...relationship problem." She didn't touch the offered pancakes. She'd nibbled on a pancake while she cooked, and she couldn't eat while she had this conversation. "It's about...Daryl."

"Do you want to break up with him?" She set the rag on the table since Em had been burped and cuddled her close, adjusting the outfit Caesar had to have put on her. She hated this outfit, but it was a gift from...one of his cousins. She tried give it a thrift store, but he spotted it among the others, and now he's keeping an eye out for it.

"No, it's... No. It's the opposite of, sort of. I don't want to ask him to marry me, but..." Her brows met as she slumped in her chair. "I have no idea what I'm going to do."

"About what?"

She shook her head. "Forget it. I'll figure it out." She smiled at her niece. "She seems calmer. What did Olivia say?"

"It is colic. Gloria brought home some...formula stuff. I didn't get a chance to read it, because Caesar studied it and then called Olivia about it for nearly an hour. He's so ridiculous sometimes." She rolled her eyes. "I sometimes imagine what it would be like to put his head through a wall."

She snickered.

"He's worse than my mother."

"I know. He was with me when I was pregnant with Sam, remember?"

"Count your blessings that he moved in with me, because he would have killed you. He would have made you want to kill him. I'd forgotten how attentive he could be. I mean, he didn't even scratch the surface when I was pregnant, but now..." She inhaled deeply. "I can't wait unil we're back at work. Gloria's taking time off to take care of Em until we find a babysitter. Keira's old babysitter can't handle a baby, let alone one with colic, so we're back at square one."

"I don't know anybody who could babysit, but I have to take time off in two weeks for Deanna's birthday. Spence, Reg, Aiden and probably Mom are planning it, and I have to help set up. I could take her."

"Shouldn't you have one day off to yourself?"

"Well, yes, but I want to spend time with Deanna. We haven't seen each other since Mika's birthday in February, and I need speak to a lawyer."

"Whoa, lawyer? What for?"

"Daryl and I agreed to have joint custody of Sophia, regardless of our relationship, and we've postponed it so many times. I just want to get it off my list." She propped her chin in her hand. "Besides I need this little one to know I'm cooler than Amy. I can only do that if I'm around more."

"That shouldn't be hard. She likes soft things and that ball." Andrea carried Em to the living room and set her down on the blanket Caesar had laid out. "She doesn't know what to do with it, but she loves it."

"I'll bet." Carol turned to face them in the chair, watching her sister-in-law and niece. "Are you bringing her to the wedding? Beth and Noah's?"

"God, no." Andrea collected Keira's toys and tossed them in a basket. "Caesar has terrible allergies, and with the wedding being on a farm, I don't want to find out both of my girls do as well. Mom will take her and Keira while we're in Georgia, and Caesar and I decided to stay there for a bit, just the two of us."

"A second honeymoon?" she mused.

"More like a weekend away. I'm looking forward to it, and it's not for months, but judging how the last two have been with Em, it's going to a rough ride."

"You don't think it's odd they invited us?"

"No, but I met with Beth, to thank her for helping Caesar while you got Gorman, and we had a nice talk." She paused. "Why? Do you not want to go?"

"No. I'm just not a fan of weddings."

"Well, you'd better get used to it. You have four girls in your life, plus Carl and Rosita if she ever settles down, and maybe Michonne if she finds the right guy." She set the basket down and dropped her hands to her hips. "Are you bringing your girls?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't even told Daryl. We'll work it out tonight. Why?"

"Just wondering." She seated herself beside her daughter and stroked her little belly. "You know he wants three of these?"

"He used to talk about wanting a big family." She drank the rest of her orange juice, picking at the pancake so they wouldn't go to waste.

"I can't imagine having more than two, but I know he wants a boy. He says he doesn't care, but I know him. He wants a little boy. I do too. It's just not my choice." She pursed her lips. "Three kids."

"You'll have to move out of here." She joined Andrea on the floor. "You'll need more space."

"I'm not moving out there to where Lori and Shane are. I like living in the city."

"Then live in the city. If you and Caesar try for a third kid, we'll go hunting for four bedroom homes. Three, if that's all you guys can afford. Keira and Emelita can share a room." She smiled warmly. "Until then you'll make it work."

"I just feel pressured to have another kid," she confessed.

"Why? Is it Caesar? You can talk to him about it. He's pushy, but he'll understand."

"No, it's not him—mostly not him. It's me, and the fact that I'm not twenty-five anymore. I'm not ready to retire and pick out dentures yet, but there are risks and... I don't want to put myself in a position where it's me or my baby. I don't want Caesar to be in that position, but he... He wants a little boy, and I know he does, and it sucks that we started so late."

"Andrea." Carol wrapped an arm around her shoulder and consoled her. "I don't know what to tell you, but you need to talk to him. Sooner seems better."

Outside the house, Caesar stood frozen, having heard them through the front window he'd open to bring fresh air into the house, and he stepped back. He lowered his eyes and decided to make a trip to the store. They were out of a lot of items...

––

Daryl was off today, and Carol had taken a long lunch, so she checked in on him. He was medically fine, but she hadn't seen him since last night, and it wasn't a pleasant conversation. She didn't want to leave it like that and have the girls pick up on any tension later today when she got off work. They didn't need this on their plate, and neither did Daryl.

He was in bed, taking his first nap of the day likely, and she smiled, tiptoeing to the edge of the bed. She whispered his name, but he didn't flinch or wake. She climbed over him, and he still didn't rouse. She suspected he was awake and only faking to see what she'd do, and she straddled his hips, resting her hands on his lower abdomen.

"I know you're awake."

"What would you do if I were asleep?" His tone was husky, groggy, so he'd only just woken up.

"I suppose you'll never know."

He opened his eyes. "What are you doing home? I know it ain't that late."

"I took a long lunch. Were you napping?"

"Yeah, I didn't sleep good last night."

"Because of our conversation?"

"Sorta."

"Merle will explain himself, if you need him to. He wants you and Sophia to be happy, not...ridden with guilt. I know it's not that simple, but you can't live...like this."

"It ain't the Merle part; it's the you part." He glided his hands up her thighs to her waist. "Is everything okay with you?"

"Yes. I just have a lot on my mind right now, and I didn't mean to worry you."

"What's on your mind? Work?"

"I—It's not work." She averted her gaze to the pillow behind his head. "I can't explain what it is. I could, but...I'm not ready. I'm sorry if you don't get it, but I can't. Not yet."

"Do you wanna end things?" he whispered.

"No." She dared to look at him. "I don't want to end anything. What I want is time. I have something to tell you, but I can't tell you just yet. It's complicated, and I need you to get it. I need you to not push, because this... _us_...is new to me. I haven't been a relationship since high school."

"What about Rick?"

"What we had didn't qualify as a relationship, and there wasn't anyone serious before him. And it's only been you ever since."

He beamed. "Well, take your time with whatever it is. I ain't gonna push."

She smiled back at him then leaned down and kissed him. She couldn't recount the last time they'd kiss. He worked, she worked, and they had the girls to raise and take care of. She always meant to be more affectionate, but after twenty plus years of not having or needing a relationship, it escaped her sometimes. And he was too embarrassed to make the first move. Sometimes he did, but not often enough. She had to meet him halfway, and she didn't mind. She just had to remind herself that she could do more than touch his hand or his arm, and she wanted to do more. Daryl certainly did always want to do more.

They began to date a week after he was released from the hospital. She tested the waters at first, holding his hand, a few pecks on the lips, nothing too fast. She wasn't sure what to do sometimes, and he didn't either. They had more than one awkward moment, but she expected that. She anticipated clumsy and uncomfortable and nervous laughter. She prepared for it, although it did little in the moment. She didn't know how long that phase was meant to last, but it had dissolved after a couple months. It cropped up now and them, but it wasn't too horrifying. For the most part, it was just sweet. It was just them, finding out who they were after all this time and who they were to each other. It was late night conversations and teasing. It was something she'd never experienced before, and she loved it. She loved every second of it, and that was the issue she had. It wasn't simply the moments she loved.

He rolled so she was underneath him on the bed, and she protested against his mouth. She hadn't when his hands slid underneath her blazer or untucked her shirt from her pants, but she didn't come home for this.

He pulled back. "What?"

"I have to get back to work soon." The last thing she needed right now was to return to the precinct late in a different outfit and smelling like soap. She had done that before when she was a rookie, and she didn't want to do it again now. Although the one time she did change and shower, she had ended up with one of Caesar's ex-girlfriends' lunch chucked at her. She was aiming for Caesar who ducked just as Carol had unlocked the door. The asshole hadn't even waited for it too cool off before he pissed her off. Then again she did practically break into their apartment, so it wasn't entirely his fault.

"How soon?"

"Daryl." She laughed despite the glare she shot him.

"We can be quick."

"Maybe I don't want quick," she softly retorted.

"Neither do I," he muttered.

"I still have to eat, but we can finish this tonight."

He kissed her once more then moved so she could sit up. "We can have the leftovers from last night."

"That'd be fine." She stood up and tucked her shirt in, seeing he'd also undone her belt. "Daryl!" She stormed out of his room to tell him to not assume every time they kissed, it would lead to something more, and he interrupted her with a kiss.

"That doesn't get you off the hook," she informed him.

"I know. Just missed you." He kissed her again, pulling her closer, and she stopped him. He nearly asked why when her stomach grumbled. "Lunch, right."

––

Andrea checked the time again and typed in her husband's phone number, wondering where the hell he was. He dropped Keira off at school and then vanished. She texted him to pick up a couple of items from the store, but he had yet to reply. It was going on three, and she couldn't leave the house to pick up Keira. He had the car seat, and she could bust out Keira's, but Emelita wasn't fond of car rides. She couldn't ride around the city trying to find him after she picked up Keira. Where was he?

She listened as it rang and rang, but he didn't answer. She rose up off the stairs and padded down them, calling Gloria and pacing the living room. "Gloria?"

" _What's wrong?_ " Gloria knew that tone well. When Andrea first used it, it was new mother troubles. She knew Andrea was rusty, but not so much that she needed to be so panicked. Her tone filled Gloria instantly with trepidation.

"Have you seen Caesar?"

" _He came by for lunch._ "

"Is he still there? Or did he say where he was going?"

" _No. He's been gone for hours. Why? Has he not come home yet?_ "

"No. He took Keira to school, and that was the last I saw him. I wouldn't be so worried if he'd answer my calls or texts, but he isn't. Are you sure he didn't tell you where he was going?"

 _"Positive."_

"Okay, could you call him? If he picks up, tell him to come home. If he doesn't..." she trailed off. "Just let me know either way, please."

" _Of course. I'll call him now. Don't worry, Andrea, he'll be fine._ "

"I hope so." She was about to hang up when the front door opened, and there he was. "He's home. I'll call you back." She ended the call and tossed her phone on the couch. "Where the hell have you been?!"

"You're going to wake Emelita." He carried bags to the kitchen. "I didn't know if you want the sensitive toothpaste or not, but I bought it just in case. I also picked up some more paper for Keira. Her notebooks are filled with drawings, and we never have paper here."

"Where have you been?" Andrea snapped, not caring if she did wake the baby. "You were taking Keira to school and then you just disappear for eight hours? You have lunch with your mother, but you can't answer my texts?!"

"I had to buy groceries." He gestured to them. "And we needed more diapers. You're the one who has to use that organic shit. They're not easy to find."

"She has sensitve skin, asshole, and the place we typically buy them at is around the corner!" she seethed. "Where did you go?"

He didn't respond. He put away the meats and milk, leaving her standing there, glowering venomously at him, and he clenched his jaw tighter, dumping the vegetables into the wicker basket Rick had gotten them as a gift for either a birthday or anniversary. He feared if he continued to do this, he'd shatter his teeth, but it was better than speaking. If he spoke, they would fight, and he didn't want to have this fight. Not tonight, not even tomorrow, perhaps fucking never and a day.

"Are you angry with me?" Andrea inquired. "I don't recall doing something to piss you off, but that is no excuse for wandering off!"

"You can take care of Em just fine," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"This isn't about her! Of course I can take care of her by myself. I was worried about _you_ , but evidently my worry was misplaced. At least you haven't been impaled or shot."

He frowned. "You thought something happened to me?"

"I never know," she confessed, "and I assume the worst because you're a reckless jackass who can't return a text or send some stupid emoji to let me know you're not dead somewhere. We've been lucky for over a year, so I thought that luck had run out. That's why you should pick up your phone and talk to me. Jackass."

"Well, why didn't you talk to me?!" he snapped, slamming the apples down on the table. "You talked to Carol about our possible future children but not me? Pretty fucked up considering they're _our_ kids, _not hers!_ What, did you think I'd react poorly? Well, congratulations! You were right!"

She flinched and glanced over her shoulder to scan the living room. "The window..."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Of course I was! I just didn't know how!" She slapped her hands down to her side. "You love kids. Ever since we first met, I knew you wanted a lot of kids. I was fine with just Keira, but you never were satisfied with one child, let alone one girl."

"When have I ever said that?" he hissed. "Keira was more than enough for me! You know how much I love her!"

"Fine, poor choice of words, but you want more. You always do! When we were dating, you were practically picking out China! When we were engaged, you were looking at nurseries! When people asked us at our wedding if we wanted a lot of kids, you immediately said yes. You didn't even give me a chance to speak, Caesar. You already had your mind made up."

"My mind can change!" he bellowed. "It already has! Yeah, I said I wanted a boy, and yes, I still do, but that doesn't mean I need a son. Having two little girls is enough for me! Don't put words in my mouth!"

"Don't—don't—" She cut off and laughed bitterly. "Caesar, fucking strangers know how much you want a little boy! God, you were practically picking out baseball onesies and 'handsome little devil' bibs!"

"We wanted to be surprised, remembered? We couldn't have all tutus and unicorns! Christ, I was adding varity, not—not praying we had a boy." He dragged a hand through his hair and scoffed. "I wasn't disappointed when I saw our baby was a girl."

"I know you weren't."

"If you don't want to have any more kids, it's all right. Keira and Emelita are everything, and I don't need anymore. I'm sorry if I made you feel as though you had to give us—give me a third kid. I don't need another kid, Andrea."

"I do," she whispered. "I—I want to give you a little boy."

"You don't have to."

"Well, duh." He was hesitant to laugh, and she swallowed. "I just want to be safe with our next child. Whether we get pregnant in two years or three, I need us to be safe, okay? I don't want a choice to have to be made."

"Neither do I." He approached her, reaching out to hold her, but he fell short. "I couldn't... After all I've lost, I can't add you to that list."

She closed the gap between them and held him. "I can't make promises."

"I know." He dug his hands into her back, burying his face in her shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't call you. I didn't know how...to have this talk."

"I'm still pissed about that," she informed him, nuzzling his neck, "jackass."

He chuckled. "I'll make it up to you."

She closed her eyes and exhaled. "Are we going to try for a boy?"

"Only if we both want it."

"And we do," she added quickly after him.

"Then we speak to Dr. Madson. We'll schedule an appointment with her, and if there aren't too many risks then yeah." He held her at arm's length. "Just tell me when."

"I'll schedule an appointment for next week." He stroked her cheek then his lips pursed, and she frowned. "What?"

"We didn't wake Emelita with our yelling, so either she's out cold or..."

They bolted up the stairs, Caesar reached the room first and Andrea nearly crashed into him. Luckily Emelita was just knocked out for the first time in ever. Her little chest rose and fell as she dreamed, Andrea held her exhale until they were out of her room, and they waddled to their bedroom to breathe.

"My heart's still racing." She combed hair out of her face. "God, I told you we should get a baby monitor with a camera."

"You're the one with the better pay," he reminded her. "Treat yourself."

"It wouldn't be for myself. It'd be for our daughter who sleeps like her father." She folded her arms. "I'm going to have to start holding a mirror to your nose when we're old, you realize."

"Ooh, do you promise?"

She smiled. "Don't you have groceries to put away?"

He leaned over and kissed her tenderly. "I love you."

She grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck and jerking him flush against her. "I love you too, jackass." She pressed her lips to his, a heat crackling between them; and she pushed up on her toes, her mouth opening to his, and they stumbled, her back coming up against a wall. They hadn't had sex since she ballooned up at 30 or so weeks. It wigged him out at the idea of having sex with the baby _right there_ , so it'd been over four months. She had lost track near the third month, but at the burning in her core, it was clear it'd been far too long.

He had intended to pull away. He had come home, because the clock on his dashboard glaringly told him it was about time to pick Keira up from school. He needed to pull away and get in his car. He knew he should do that. He knew in his head, but right now his head being drowned out by Andrea's intoxicating kisses. He hadn't been with her in six months, and with how Emelita cried and cried and cried, he hadn't even had the strength to even think about sex with his wife. He was just trying to walk down the hall and not crawl. He couldn't reach in the crib from the floor. Sadly, he had tried. Twice.

She threaded her fingers through his close cropped hair, feeling the curls that lingered from his shower this morning, and she arched her body more into his so every inch of their bodies were touching. She broke the kiss to draw in a breath, her hands falling to his waist, and he cupped her cheeks, pausing only a moment before claiming her mouth. She moaned as his tongue caressed hers, his palms hot against her cheeks, and her heart race for an entirely different reason.

He pulled back, and she whined unintentionally, physically aching for him, and he chuckled, kissing down her neck, finding that spot behind her ear, and she dug her nails into his upper arms, whimpering against his shoulder.

"Caesar," she strained, "we have less than a half hour before we have to get Keira, and God only knows how long Em will be down, so cut the teasing and just fuc—"

He cut her off with a kiss, gathering the thin material of her gray and white stripped overshirt and discarding it, leaving her in a gray undershirt. She hadn't worn a bra since she'd given birth, and sometimes she only wore one if she was leaving the house, and even then he wasn't sure if she actually wore one. That played in his favorite today. "You're so endearing, you know that." He worked on the strings to her yoga pants.

"Oh, yeah?" She aided him with removing her pants and panties, kicking them to the side. "Then you'll love what I say next."

"Will I?" He smirked as she pushed up his t-shirt, and he tossed it aside.

She unbuckled his pants and gazed at him through her eyelashes, smirking sweetly at him. "Take me here."

"Against the wall?"

"Yes." She bent down to lower both his boxers and his pants, her fingertips brushing against him, and he groaned low in his throat. She straightened, he moved away to close the door, not wanting to wake Em, and he paused.

"What?" She eyed him.

"We don't have any condoms." He laughed with not even a trace of humor, and he sighed. Son of a bitch.

"We've risked it before," she commented, gliding her hand over his chest.

"Yeah, but we can't afford to risk it now. We already have one baby." He stilled her hand. "It's nearly time to get Keira from school."

She slumped against the wall. "I hate you."

He kissed her nose. "How about I make you a deal?" He dressed himself, and she glared at him before stealing his t-shirt and throwing it on, folding her arms across her chest exasperatedly. "Would you just listen?"

"I didn't cover my ears," she groused.

"I'll pick up some juice boxes and condoms after I pick up Keira, and we can finish this _later_."

"Not much of a deal."

"I wasn't done." He waited until she lost the glare. "And it isn't much of a deal since I'm doing this regardless."

"Doing what?" She narrowed her eyes as he neared her, and she lowered her eyes as his hand traveled down the front of her shirt, and she gasped when he reached inside. She closed her eyes and gripped his upper arms as he found her sweet spot, and she buried her face in his shoulder. "Caesar... _Ah!_ "

He kissed her hair, and she moaned, thrusting against his palm, and he nearly whined when she drover her nails deeper into his flesh.

– – –

"Email me with the information." Carol tossed her keys on the island. "I'll pick up the damn cake if you email me!"

Daryl sat in the living room, and he lowered the book he'd been skimming through. "Cake?"

"Spencer." She set her phone on the counter. "Where are the girls?"

"They're in Sophia's room, playing." He met her eyes. "Thought you three were gettin' along."

"We are, but I'm in a foul mood. Our prime suspect was released this evening." She huffed. "I know it's her, and we have nothing to pin her. I'll apologize to him tomorrow. I just have headache, and I'm starving."

"We haven't eaten either, and we reached our max on ordered food, so you have to cook. Or I could cook."

"I'll make something." She crossed over to him and kissed him. "Good book?"

"Nah." He handed it to her. "It was Axel's, left it here some time ago. I can't get through it."

"I can pick you up a few books tomorrow. I have to buy one for Deanna's birthday. I don't know if she'll like it, but she had about ten books by this author. Reg approved it."

"I'm sure she will, and that'd be great."

"Okay. What type of books do you like?" She set the book he'd handed her on the table and searched the fridge for what to make for dinner.

"Crime novels."

"Really?" She plucked the tomatoes from the shelf, deciding to make spaghetti as it was quick and simple. They had all the ingredients for it too.

"Yeah, really." He rose up off the couch toward the island. "Why? What were you expectin'?"

"I don't know." She pulled down a pot and set it on the counter. "I hadn't really pegged you for a big reader."

"Ain't much else to do on my days off." He sat on the stool. "Not in the city anyway."

"Why not leave the city then?" She met his eyes. "Take a few days off and...go somewhere. I can take care of the girls myself, and Mom's...around to lend me a hand if I need it. If you need it, I don't mind. It saves me from having to scream at three people to wake up in the morning too."

He chuckled. "I'm still adjusting to this schedule." He rubbed the back of his neck. "And that doesn't sound too bad. I mean...maybe we could go together," he murmured.

She blinked. "What?"

He inhaled and shrugged a shoulder. "I was just thinkin' it'd be kinda nice to take a trip, you know just the two of us. I know you're taking time off when Deanna gets here, but I figure you have a lot of vacation days accrued. We didn't do anything for our anniversary, so why not just take a couple days off?"

"Because we have kids," she replied. "And—and I'm in the middle of an investigation. I can't just leave now."

"I didn't mean right now." He frowned. "We got your mom's birthday comin' up, and I was aiming for next month anyway."

"Daryl, we can barely plan for a week, let alone next month. We don't know what's going to happen between now and then, and I—I already am trying to plan for Deanna's birthday. It's not going well, so I don't think _planning a trip_ will be a cake walk."

"Just a suggestion. You don't gotta bite my head off." He collected the book he was struggling to get through and ducked out of the kitchen.

Carol sighed and leaned against the counter. She didn't like to plan trips. She hadn't planned a trip since college, and that was mostly Caesar. He did the planning, and she did the driving. The last time she made plans for a trip, she lost her a son. She knew that likely wouldn't happen again, but she didn't want to jinx it. It'd been a good year, and she didn't want to tempt fate. She didn't want tip the scale and send a shit storm cascading down on them.

However she couldn't live her life worrying about that. She had this past year, and she was so focused on it she'd forgotten their anniversary. She had only been saved by work, and by the time she was able to leave, it was too late to do anything. Daryl said it was fine, that they could make up for it later, but clearly it wasn't fine. She hadn't even noticed how not fine it was until just now, because she was desperately trying to keep this year from crumbling around her as so many had. She couldn't do this. Not if she wanted her relationship to work. She just didn't know how to fix it. Throw her into a room with a perp, and she'd have him confessing his every crime. Toss her into a hostage situation, and she'd have the ass in handcuffs by the end of the day. But put her in a relationship of her own, and she simply floundered.

She shook her head and continued to prepare dinner since she knew exactly how to do that.

––

Daryl didn't join them for dinner that evening, Sophia had checked in on him, but he said he wasn't hungry. Carol assured the girls he was fine, and they enjoyed dinner. She heard about their day and what they'd been playing, and she smiled. She loved these moments. She'd love it more if Daryl were here, but that was her fault. She would have to think of a way— _any_ way—to remedy that.

Once dinner had been finished and the leftovers put away, Carol sent Mika to his room with a plate. Mika came back about ten minutes later and told Carol he was eating. She was thankful. One less thing to worry about.

The girls got ready for bed, Carol looked in on both of them, kissing their foreheads, and she turned the lights off. Mika was out the second her head touched the pillow, but Sophia called to her before she could slip out the door.

"What is it?" She lingered in the doorway.

"What happened with you and Dad?" She studied her mom in the poor light the hall provided. "Did you have a fight?"

"Yes, we had a fight, but it's fine. I'm...going to make it up to him." Somehow. "Don't worry about it."

"Is this 'cause he wanted to take a trip?"

"You knew about that?" She stepped toward her. "He told you?"

She nodded. "We were planning it together. Me and Mika aren't going, but we wanted to help. He wasn't sure if you'd want to go or not, and I told him you'd love it, but I guess I was wrong. I shouldn't have assumed you'd like it. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It was a lovely idea. I just...need time to think it over."

"So, you might go?" She sat up, smiling.

"I need time to consider it—and I'm not making any promises—but maybe."

"Well, you should go. It's gonna be great, just ask Dad." Those big hopeful eyes were pleading. "He put a lot of thought into, Mom, and I know you'd have a good time, so please think about it. Please, please."

"I already told you I was. Now get to sleep. It's late." She smiled good night and exited the room, heading to her own. She stopped about halfway there and turned around, heading to Daryl's, because there was no way she could sleep now. They needed to talk, and she would be buried in the case tomorrow. She was lying to herself if she thought she could make time to talk before the girls were home. She didn't want to discuss this over the phone either, so it was right now. They could have coffee in the morning if this conversation ran late to keep exhaustion away, but there was no quick fix for this.

She knocked on his door once, and he didn't say anything, but she knew he was awake. She had heard him sigh, and she crossed her arms. "Daryl...I need to talk to you."

"It isn't locked."

She entered his room and closed the door behind her. She glanced at the bed where he was stretched out, and she walked around to the other side and sat. She hadn't changed out of her work clothes, so she unbuttoned the cuffs of her sleeves, just to give her something to do while she thought of what to say.

"The girls in bed?"

"Yes." She rested her hands in her lap. "We need to talk about this trip."

"Don't worry. It wasn't anything." He dropped the crappy book on the floor. "Just forget it."

"How long have you been planning it?"

"Why do you want to know that?"

"I just do, so please answer the question."

"I dunno. A couple weeks, could be a month. I didn't keep track." He wiped invisible lent off the blankets at his knee. "Doesn't matter."

"You spent a month planning this?" She stared. "Daryl—"

"It ain't a big deal," he interrupted her. "Just a stupid weekend, all right? Nothin' special about it."

"You involved the girls."

"No, they involved themselves." He chuckled at the memory of it. They'd stumbled into his room, wanting help with their homework or something, and he was looking over the webpage of a resort a couple hours from here. They immediately wanted in, and they didn't even know what it was for. Sophia was rubbing off on Mika in the worst way. Or maybe the best way. He wasn't an expert on what normal sibling relationships were like, so who knows. It could be both.

"I can see that." She was smiling at him. "So, tell me about this trip."

"Tell me why you don't wanna go."

"Da—"

"So, you want me to tell you about a trip you won't go on, but I can't know why you won't even consider it?" He scoffed. "Yeah, I'll get right on that."

She averted her eyes, releasing a weak breath. "You know what happened to Sam, how we were planning on taking a trip, and I know the sniper is locked up. I know that, but I can't..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't want to risk something else—something _worse_ —happening, and I know it's not the trip or the planning that killed Sam, but they were involved in our day, and I can't...get passed it."

"It ain't gonna end up like that."

"I know, but I don't know." She opened her eyes and gulped. "It's like eating at a restaurant and in the morning you're throwing up, so you blame the restaurant and don't eat there for months when the truth is you caught a stomach bug hours before."

"It's been thirteen years." He reached over and clasped her hand. "Ed is locked up. You can't...live thinkin' like that, Carol. You're gonna miss so much if you do."

"I know. Trust me, I've lectured myself on this for years, but I can't shake it." The light from his lamp revealed of a sheen of tears in her eyes. "I'm trying my best now—with you and the girls. I am trying, and I know it's not enough. I know I'm not... I just don't know how do this anymore. I can pretend, but at the end of the day, I have no clue what the hell I'm doing or should be doing."

"Carol, you're doing just fine."

"No, I'm not. I forgot our anniversary, Daryl, and if it weren't for Mom, the girls would be left at the school for hours, because I get so involved in my cases that I forget you can't pick them up. How does a mother forget her own kids?"

"It happens."

"It shouldn't!"

He moved closer to her on the bed. "So, you forgot a couple of times. It's not a big deal. You got family who can pick up your slack sometimes, and you know Gloria is more than happy to do it. She loves the girls, and she has flexible work hours unlike you. She picked up Keira when Andrea forgot it was her day to pick up her, you know." He held her elbow and smiled a little. "I also forgot our anniversary. Sophia reminded me at the last minute, asking what I'd gotten you. I barely made it to the store in time."

"You forgot?"

"That's why I planned this trip. It was an apology for forgetting, and partly it was because I wanted to spend some time alone with you. We don't get much of that, and I said I'd show you the woods when it's all misty." He peeked at her face. "It ain't rain, but you'd like it."

She reached over and embraced him tightly, saying nothing.

"If you don't want to go, it's really fine. I hadn't made any reservations yet, and we can just go out for dinner instead. I don't—"

"Shut up." She said it gently and rested her forehead against his. "We're going. I might have a panic attack and need sedated, but we're going."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." She kissed him. She had been one hundred percent honest about the panic attack and sedative. She would likely have both, but oh well. She had endured plenty of panic attacks in her life. She had gone through so much, changed so many times she'd lost count, and she'd suffered many losses from both her personal life and the job. Her heart was battered, only held together with tape and thread, but she had made it through. She had gone through hell, and she couldn't let that chase off her heaven. If she allowed that to happen, if she gave in to her fear and stayed where it was safe then everything that happened following the arrest of the Governor and Archer was for nothing. If she cowered away from every good thing then the sniper had won. He had successfully invaded her life and was controlling her happiness and her freedom even from behind bars. She wouldn't let him. So she was going, _they_ were going, and nothing was going to interfere.

Their kiss progressed, Carol's aforementioned plans of finishing this tonight flickered in his minds briefly, and Daryl once again untucked her blouse from the waistband of her slacks. His fingers traveled underneath the crisp material, gliding across soft skin, and he felt her shudder underneath his touch. He smirked against her mouth, pulling her closer and closer until she was on his lap, and he unbuttoned her shirt, his lips leaving hers to kiss the scars that blemished her creamy skin. He hadn't noticed their first time together, but he had since the second. He knew she'd been through a lot, heard her state as much, but he didn't know how much until their second time together.

He feathered tender kisses to the various scars. Some he could tell here from knives, a couple from bullet grazes, and there were little stretch marks. It was beautiful to him. All of those scars she'd gotten simply performing her job, scars that told such gruesome stories, coupled with those stretch marks, those lines that said life had been there. Beautiful, perfect life had been created and held here right beside the scars. It was amazing. She was amazing, exquisite. And he was a lucky son of a bitch. He could only hope to kiss these marks—and this woman—for the rest of his life.

His lips found hers again, her blouse pooled around her hips, and she lifted the hem of his shirt up and over his head. She curled her arms around his neck, moving to be flush against him, and he rolled them onto the bed. He pushed the blankets off his legs so the only thing between them were their pants, and he planted kisses along her jawline down to her neck, stilling her hands from undoing the button to his jeans. He wanted to things differently tonight. She had said she didn't want "quick", and he meant it when he said he didn't either. It'd been a while since they'd been together, and he wanted to savor it tonight. Savor her, and she'd just have to deal with it.

– – –

She had taken the possibility of needing coffee in the morning seriously, and she was grateful she had. Because the last time she'd caught the time it was well past two in the morning, and she was positive it had gotten even later since. Though it was a small thought in her otherwise occupied mind.

Daryl had once joked that one time they'd have sex in her bed, but they couldn't seem to be able to wait until they were up the stairs and down the hall. His room was more advantageous. It was on the first floor, it wasn't a long walk, and the girls were less likely to hear them. Which they were both thankful for tonight.

The pair were wrapped up in both each other and the sheets, the sound of soft laughter and panting filled the room, replacing the fevered moan and groans that inhabited the space moments before, and the lights of the city twinkled in through the window. At one time they'd accidentally kicked the nightstand, and the bulb broke. They had yet check or pick it up, but they'd eventually get to it.

Carol combed her fingers through Daryl's damp mop of hair as he rested his head on her chest, his body pinning hers completely to the bed, and she was pleasantly surprised to discover how much she liked it. She didn't have the strength to move away, not that she wanted to. She decided to sleep in here tonight. Primarily because she wasn't sure her legs could support her the entire walk back up to her bedroom.

Daryl lifted his head and met her sparkling eyes, grinning broadly at her. He brushed his fingertips through the curly silver hairs at her temple and kissed her. "One day we'll break in your bed."

She laughed, covering half her face with her hand, and she shook her head. "I doubt it."

He gazed at her then moved the hand from her face so his view wasn't blocked. His heart swelled at the sight of her, disheveled, laughing, blushing from his gaze, and he fell even deeper, deeper than he already was, deeper than he ever knew he could fall. "I love you."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she gaped at him. "W—what?"

"I love you." He kissed her gently, caressing her cheek with his free hand. He wanted to know how she felt, and he couldn't do that if he kept this up, so he pulled back. He studied her, seeing she was a shade paler, and he opened his mouth to speak when the phone rang.

The ringtone sounded over and over as the couple said nothing. Daryl frowned when Carol suddenly pushed up, saying, "It's—it's my phone."

He moved back, covering himself, and she dug her phone out of her slacks, holding the blanket around herself, and she answered the phone before it could ring again. He watched her, listening as she said "Yes", "When?", "All right", "Where?", and then "I'll be there in twenty minutes". He ran a hand through his hair, and she faced him.

"It was Michonne."

"You got a case," he guessed.

"Our prime suspect was found dead in her apartment." She nodded. "I'm sorry. I—I have to go."

He just nodded.

She hurried from his room to her own, taking a quick shower and dressing. She was out the door fifteen minutes later, and she crashed once the front door was shut. She leaned against the heavy metal door and caught her breath, trying to keep herself together. She kept hearing him saying those words, her mind playing the events that lead up to that moment over and over on a loop, and she felt shaken.

 _I love you._ _ **W—what?**_ _I love you. I love you._ _ **W—what?**_ _I love you._ **I love you.**

She shook her head to clear it and pushed off the door toward the elevator. She had a murder. She couldn't think about this right now. She just couldn't. She glanced back at their door and sank her teeth into her bottom lip. _I love you too._

 **-–**

Carol arrived at the apartment after Caesar, who was chugging down a coffee in a massive cup she didn't know they made, and Michonne was leaning over the body with Denise. Carol was filled in by Caesar, and she frowned when he began to eye her.

"What?"

"For someone who was woken up at five in the morning, you look pretty damn good. In fact, you're practically glowing."

"I had a shower."

"It's not from a shower." He smirked. "Was Daryl upset to be woken up at five?"

"Can you not do this?" she growled at him.

"Or did Michonne interrupt?"

"Show some respect, Caesar. A dead body is less than ten feet away from you," Carol spat and pushed by him to speak to Michonne.

He pursed his lips. They interrupted something, that was obvious. He didn't want to know what, but he kind of did since she was being so curt. Was it their fault? Or Daryl's? Or hers? He was curious. If she wanted this to drop, she went about it the wrong way. He was devoted to this case, but that didn't mean he couldn't pester his partner until she coughed out what was upsetting her.

"Her neighbor called it in." Michonne glanced at Carol. "Heard a struggle and called. She was dead on arrival."

"It would appear we were wrong about her," Rosita commented.

"Or we were right, and she acted with a partner," Carol amended. "The partner didn't trust her to not rat them out, so they made sure she couldn't."

"Great. Highlight of my week."

"It's my first day back, and the sun hasn't even risen yet," Caesar somewhat griped, "but at least it wasn't the baby that woke me up, so that's an upside."

"How is she?" Michonne moved from the body.

"A screaming monster, but I love her." He gave a lopsided smile. "You should come by and see her tonight. Andrea's still on leave, and we could use some company. How about we have dinner?"

"Sure."

"Is Daryl free tonight?" Caesar asked his partner. "You guys can come with the girls. Keira could use someone to talk to. Someone who isn't exhausted and putting coffee in her cereal, that is."

"I'll bring the girls by," Carol absentmindedly replied.

"Okay."

"Why can't I come?" Rosita glowered.

"You don't have any kids, and you aren't fond of screaming babies, which Em is. I didn't think you'd be interested. I'm sorry. Do you want to come?"

"Yeah, I have plans, but thanks." She grinned wickedly at him and lightly punched his arm. "I'll drop off some non-alcoholic wine though."

"All right, enough goofing off. Back to the case," Michonne ordered.

"Yes, ma'am."

––

 _I'm sorry. I—I have to go. I'm sorry. I—I have to go. I'm sorry. I—I have to go. I'm sorry. I—I have to go._ It echoed in his mind on repeat, accompanied by the front door shutting. He wanted to laugh. He might have actually laughed too. He wasn't positive if he had. Things were a bit blurred. The woman he'd been dating just shot out of here after he said I love you. He might as well have said "I slept with someone else" given her reaction. He might have at least gotten her to stay with that.

He dragged himself to the shower, ducking his head under searing hot water, and he splayed his hands over damp tiles, leaning over. Water shot down his shoulder blades, spilling over at his sides, and he thought over the last couple of months of their relationship.

Carol insisted they delay their relationship a few weeks to let him adjust to being out of the hospital, and he argued he didn't need weeks to adapt. It dawned on him about halfway through the first week she was the one who needed time, and he went along with it. He didn't want to nudge her into something she wasn't ready for, but a couple times he did take her hand or kiss her briefly. She didn't protest, but she did glare a bit at him afterward, though it was nothing too serious or harsh.

True to her word, Carol had taken time off work to take care of him. She spent a lot of time with him and the girls, helping them with homework and forcing him to let her help him. He wasn't fond of it, and he kept trying to assure her he was fine and could do everything on his own, but she dismissed it and assisted him anyway. Once he'd been upset with her aiding him so much, he grumbled about how she owed him a sponge bath. It was a joke, and he'd just been grumpy, but about a week later, Carol came into his room and said his bath was ready. He frowned at that, but she smirked and guided him to the bathroom, where she proceeded to give him a sponge bath. He had laughed and tried to talk her out of it, but she feigned solemn and went through with it. It was humiliating at first, because of how serious she was being, but once he was in the tub, she began to laugh and tease him good-naturedly. After that, it was rather pleasant, along with the thorough scrub down.

He shook his head, water sloshing on the glass door and tiled wall on either side of him, and he exhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut to try and rid his mind of the memory. It didn't help that they'd just been together moments before, and he groaned, bumping his forehead against the wall.

He remembered their "first" time. The first time they'd had sex—since those nights eleven years ago—was two months after they began to date. She wanted to wait, and he thought she was babying him. He had gotten the okay from the doctor—not on that—and he was more than willing. He respected her choice, and eventually it happened. He didn't know if she was planning it or not, but it was so natural. Like it'd always been like that, like their bodies were made for the other, and it was just like before. What he felt for her, it all came flooding back, and he had to kiss her lips or her skin to keep the words from spilling out of his mouth. It'd only been two months. He couldn't freak her out like that. He couldn't freak himself out like that. If he said, it became real, and while he was fond of every second of their relationship, he wasn't ready for it to become real then. If it became real, so did the chance of splitting up, and he couldn't go there, especially not fucking now.

He loved her. He had something for her back then—he couldn't deny it even if he wanted to—and it came back when they were together. Knowing her as well as he did, being friends and then partners only nurtured his feelings, and that night...was one he wouldn't forget. He couldn't get it out of his mind whenever they were together, because he'd always wanted to say the words. He thought he'd be more afraid of them, of what would come after, but he wasn't. He wanted to tell her, and he couldn't keep it to himself anymore. He didn't regret telling her, only her reaction. Was it too soon? Did she not feel the same way? Was that the problem? Was that why she bolted the second she hung up with Michonne?

 _I'm sorry. I—I have to go._ Sorry? What did she have to be sorry for exactly? He knew she would be in and out at all times. He told her he was okay with it, and while it sucked, he got over it. She knew that, so why was she sorry? Sorry she didn't love him too? Sorry she had ever come to his room tonight—er, last night? Whatever. Was that why she was apologizing? She didn't love him back, and she didn't know how to say that, so she said sorry? Or perhaps she did love him back and was sorry the moment had been ruined by Michonne calling? Or was it that she did love him back, but she couldn't say it yet? Or maybe it was door number one, and she didn't love him. She wouldn't be the first person to not love him back, and as fine as he was with it when it was his mom and dad, it wasn't fine on any level that Carol didn't love him.

He increased the heat of the water, his honey-color skin reddening under the waves of scorching water, and he clenched his jaw. Hot water was supposed to ease tension in muscle, but it wasn't doing anything for him, and he knew he should get out, because he was only hurting himself; however he couldn't step out of the shower and face the world just yet. He needed to be distracted. All of those memories were piling up on the wall he'd built around them, and he couldn't—he couldn't—go there. All of those years of abuse and neglect were swallowing all of the years of laughter and joy he'd had with Sophia, and he couldn't breathe.

"Dad?"

His eyes snapped opened, and he jolted, moving away from the shower head. "Sophia?"

"It's almost time for school." She was on the other side of the door. "We've already eaten, but Aunt Andrea called and said she couldn't take us. Something with Emelita, so we need you to take us. Mom's not in her room."

"Y—yeah, just give me a minute to change."

"Okay. I'll make some coffee."

He twisted the faucet off and wrapped himself in a towel. He hadn't even used soap, but he was sure he'd burned a layer of skin off his body. He shook his head and scrubbed the second towel over his hair, exiting the bathroom. He didn't want to go back to his room, see those rumpled sheets and remember what went down there. The sex was... but what followed... Fuck, next time they were using her room. If there was a next time.

"Dad?" Sophia popped in as he adjusted the button on his sleeve. "Coffee's done."

"Thanks." He smiled a little. "I'm ready."

Sophia studied him. "Are you okay?"

"Just tired."

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she nodded, and they joined Mika in the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, helping himself to one of the Eggos left on Sophia's plate, and he turned to face the girls.

"Whoa, you look like crap." Mika suddenly blushed at her own comment. "I'm sorry."

"You ain't wrong." He drank from his cup. "You two sleep all right?"

"Yes." Sophia stuffed her books in her backpack.

"I had a weird dream, but yeah." Mika shifted on the stool. "Are you okay, Daryl? You look sick."

"It's been a rough night. I didn't get much sleep."

"Did you have a weird dream too?"

He wished. "Yeah, weird as hell." He finished off the Eggo and coffee. "C'mon, let's get you to school."

Mika clasped his hand as always, Sophia pulled the door open, and they headed out. He grasped Sophia's loop on her backpack to keep her from getting to far ahead of them, she glared—she hated when he did that—and he chuckled. His mood began to improve as the girls kept him company on the way to the car and to school. At least he knew without a doubt how they felt about him.

"Love you, Dad, bye." Sophia kissed his cheek and climbed out of the car.

"Bye." Mika hugged him awkwardly from the backseat then darted out after Sophia.

He watched until they were inside, and he started the car. Thankfully he had to work today, and afterward he would have plans. He'd make plans if he needed to. Carol wouldn't be home until late—or morning—and he couldn't sit home and stew. She was picking the girls up, so he'd call and let her know. Or maybe just text her. He didn't want to hear her struggle to come up with an excuse for this morning. He couldn't, so a text would do.

– – –

Caesar decided to keep a tally of brusque Carol was being. Rosita and Michonne didn't say anything, but he knew they noticed it too. She kept staring at her phone, and he wasn't sure if she was waiting for a phone call or trying to decide if she was going to call someone. He had observed her for about twenty minutes while on hold, and he was about to speak when the person on the other line caught his attention.

"Thank you for your time, sir." He hung up and brushed a hand through his hair, seeing his coffee was empty. He dropped his head to his desk and groaned softly before hauling himself up. "Anybody else need coffee?"

"I'll get it." Rosita was already on her way out the door.

Caesar glanced at his desk and realized he'd yet to update the family picture. He and Andrea hadn't taken any professional pictures, but he had a few of them his mom had taken when they brought Em over to her house. There was an especially adorable one with Keira on Andrea's lap, supporting Em who Keira wanted to hold, and he was beside them, stressing out the entire time. He had a copy of it at home. He'd have to bring it in and change it out. Besides Keira wasn't three anymore, even though he did love this picture of her and Andrea. He kept a smaller version in his wallet, alongside one of Carol and Sam. He couldn't bring himself to look at it before, so he kept it hidden behind the picture of Keira and Andrea, but he could now. There was still a slight ache, but he could look at it and not feel guilty or ashamed of himself. It was just a good shot of Carol and Sam, and it made him smile.

He cut a glance at his partner then leaned over her desk until she lifted her gaze to his. "Hey."

"Hi." She lowered her hands from her keyboard. "Can I help you?"

"Yes. Family pictures."

"No." She returned to typing. "I hate family photos, and I'd rather be shot again."

"Which time?"

"All of them." She smirked. "Besides I have pictures of my family."

"Yeah, from like 2004," he shot back. "Look I need a new family picture, and you know if I do it, Mom will bug you until you do 'em too. So let's do them together. It'd be fun."

She groaned, but he was right. Mom would pester her until she produced new photos of her granddaughters, herself and Daryl. The last time Mom wanted pictures, Carol had to buy a new phone to avoid her relentless calls and messages. She couldn't do that again, because Mom would contact Daryl, and who knew what Daryl would tell her. He might even like the idea, and then she was screwed. He'd tell the girls, the girls would be excited, and Carol would be the Grinch who said "no". Damn it.

"I guess," she grumbled.

He grinned. "I'll set up a date. After Deanna's birthday, of course. We'll figure out clothes and crap later."

"Clothes?" Her nose wrinkled. "Can't I just get shot again?"

"Nope." He hopped up. "By the way, don't be late tonight. Andrea's happy to have people over, and I told her you'd help her cook."

"Why? Why would you tell her that?"

"Because you've been terse with me all day, and this is my revenge. Good luck saying no to her." He winked and strolled to Michonne's office to have a word with her about their vic.

Carol stopped typing and shook her head. Great. It wasn't bad enough she ran from Daryl when he said...those words, and now she had to cook and talk to Andrea, who would know something was wrong. She would ultimately drag it out of her, and then it'd be awkward. What the hell kind of woman couldn't say the L word? And for her reasons, it was even more humiliating and foolish. She'd rather dive under a bus than attend this dinner, but likely Ceasar had told the girls already. He probably texted them, and when she picked them up from school, they'd be thrilled. He knew that she couldn't say no to them when it came to family dinners. God, what a jackass!

– – –

Daryl had plans with the boys—Abe, Axel, Oscar—so he wouldn't be attending the dinner. Carol wasn't shocked, simply disappointed, when she received the text, but she sent back an okay and collected the girls from school. They stayed in the lounge until it was time to leave for the dinner. Once at the Martinez household, Sophia and Mika greeted Keira and Emelita, who was in Michonne's arms, wearing the most adorable little dress—a gift from Michonne—and Carol was pleasantly surprised to find Lori there. In fact, she tackled her in a tight embrace, nearly colliding with the cat pole, and they laughed. It'd been too long since they'd spent time together, and Carol didn't realize how much she missed her until just then.

"It's good to see you too." Lori released her. "They didn't tell you I'd be here?"

"No, they did not." Carol turned to her sister-in-law and boss. "Why didn't you?"

"I told Caesar to tell you." Andrea held her hands up. "Blame him."

"Where is he, speaking of?" Michonne hadn't seen him since the station.

"He went to pick up drinks." Andrea smiled at the girls. "Hey, girls. How are you?"

"Good," they answered in unison.

"If you're going to play upstairs, be quiet, okay? Judith is napping, but there's a surprise in your bedroom."

"Surprise?" Sophia cocked her head to the side. "What kind of surprise?"

"Well, Keira knows what it is, but why don't you go see for yourselves?"

Sophia and Mika exchanged a glance then flew up the stairs after Keira, Andrea laughed, and Carol suspected it was Carl, as the boy hadn't made an appearance yet.

"Is Shane here?" Carol removed her jacket.

"Yes." Lori pointed upstairs. "He took Judith upstairs for her nap, and he had to take a phone call."

"Is Daryl coming?" Andrea gestured to the kitchen. "We're already lengthening the table, but we'll be lacking a chair, so let me know while Caesar's out. He can buy a lawn chair or something."

"No, Daryl won't be joining us. He had plans." She averted their eyes and entered the kitchen. "So, I'm helping cook?"

"We all are." Andrea crossed her arms. "The boys are firing up the grill since we haven't used it since Caesar bought it, and I told him if we don't use it, we're selling it, so this dinner happened."

"Don't trust Shane on the grill," Lori remarked. "He can cook well in a kitchen, but not on a grill."

"I know," Andrea admitted, "which is why I'll do the grilling."

"I'll watch Em." Michonne smiled at the baby girl in her arms.

"Watch or kidnap?" Shane teased.

"Could be a bit of both."

"I would kidnap her if we didn't know you or had the room." Lori sat beside Michonne. "She's so adorable."

"She looks just like her mom." Shane bent down by the arm of the couch to be in Emelita's line of sight and made a funny face, which resulted in her reaching over and pulling on his ear. "But she's definitely Caesar's kid."

Andrea smiled. "Yes, she is."

Emelita was passed over to Shane and Lori and then back to Michonne. Lori had been there when the baby was born, but Shane had to work, so this was his first time meeting her. He had asked about her name, and Andrea shrugged it off. She didn't want to go into the whole story again. Largely because it involved a lot of guilt tripping on Gloria's part, and partly because she hated the other name they'd picked out for the girl. She must have been brain dead when she suggested it, because that name should be wiped off the face of the Earth. It was so ugly. God, she felt sorry for anyone who had the name.

Caesar joined them and made the brave trip to Keira's room. He knew Carl was up there, but he was more worried about interrupting their game. The last time anyone did, Sophia or maybe Keira lost that round, and they sulked and gave the cold shoulder the entire night. He didn't want to risk spoiling the evening, but he wanted them to know they had drinks now. Luckily, they remembered to pause, and nobody was upset.

"Kids have snacks and drinks." He plopped down on the steps. "Judy is still asleep too."

"Thanks for checking." Lori then added, "And for letting her use your bed."

"Don't worry about it. I'm a lot like, Judy. If I don't get a nap, I'm grumpy too." He rubbed his hands together. "So, what's for dinner? I know about the meats, but what about the sides?"

"We're making the usual cookout sides."

He nodded. "Well, I'm gonna marinade the meat. Give me a hand, Andrea?"

"Sure." She met him in the kitchen. "Why do you need my help?"

"It's not with this." He leaned down. "I need you to talk to Carol. I don't know what's going on with her, but it's something. It's not something she'll talk to me about, but you can get it out of her."

"How can I get it out of her?"

"I dunno. You're a woman. Do that thing you do to me."

"Caesar, for one that only works on you, and for two...it's Carol. She's not an easy nut to crack, and what if it's upsetting? I don't want to her to cry or be upset."

"It's not going to be." He hoped. "Just trust me, all right? She needs to talk about it, and you're the best at giving advice."

She heaved a sigh. "Fine. I'll try, but next week I'm selecting the restaurant."

"I can live with that, just not that sea food joint. I've heard terrible things about that place."

"Do you want me to help you with this? It's a lot of chicken, plus you have that special crap you make for your steak."

"It's not crap."

"It is."

"No, it's not."

"Whatever. Do you want help or not?"

"Always, if it's yours."

She chuckled. "Just because you got lucky last night doesn't mean it'll happen tonight too."

"Are you sure about that?" He pinned her against the counter with his hips. "Pardon me. I need the salt."

She pushed up on the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear. "That's not the right cabinet."

"You sure about that?" He pushed against her even more, and she could feel everything, even the pack of mints in his pocket. "Hmm. You may be right, but if I could just get a little closer, I could reach the top shelf."

"We have guests," Andrea murmured. "And they can see us."

"What's there to see? I'm just looking for the salt." He grinned at her, and she actually laughed.

"Get off." She pushed on his shoulders, and he moved. "Seriously start with that marinade. I'd like to eat before midnight."

"We have those dips, just snack on them."

"Caesar, if we eat at midnight, you'll go another six months without." She arched a brow at him. "Okay?"

"It won't be midnight, but if you're hungry then eat the snacks. It's why we bought them. Besides I need you to tell me if Michonne's is any good."

"Why don't you just eat it?"

"I don't like black olives." He cringed. "They make me gag."

"Black olives? You used to like them. Gloria told me about the bet Karen and you made. She was ticked, because you ate...what was it? Three jars? She was going to use them for a family reunion, I think."

"Did she tell you I spent the night throwing them up too?"

"No."

"Yeah, well, that was the start of my abhorrence of them."

"Then I'll try it and let you know if it's good so you can compliment your boss."

"Thank you." He kissed her lightly.

"Let me give you a hand." Shane gently moved Andrea aside. "If she's in here, we'll never eat. Sometimes I forget how easily distracted you are."

"Well, can you blame me?" He gazed at his wife.

Andrea flushed at the affection and admiration in her husband's eyes, and she scoffed it off, returning to the couch where her friends were. She could feel Caesar watching her, and her blush only intensified. She hated when he did this—or so she made it seem—but it filled her heart with love. They'd been married for fourteen years, and he still looked at her like he did the first time he said he loved her. She always thought she'd be married to her job, that Amy would be the one to marry and have kids, that she's only be Aunt Andrea. Life must have been laughing at her the day she walked into that dingy little establishment. She never would have guessed she was meeting her husband and father of her children. All she saw was a cocky rookie who wore too much cologne. Only one thing had changed since then, and that was only because he couldn't find that cologne anywhere anymore. Thank God for the small things, right?

"Are we back in sixth grade?" Michonne adjusted the soon to be three month old in her arms.

"God, I hope not. I had terrible acne." Lori sat on the coffee table to be across from Michonne, holding the toy she'd brought for Emelita. "And I was flunking math."

Carol smirked. "I think that'd be the least of your worries."

"If I could make him stop, trust me, I would." Andrea uncrossed her legs and leaned back on the couch. "Shane will get on him to help out with dinner, so just ignore him."

"I think it's sweet," Lori asserted. "He loves you, and he makes it known to everyone."

"Which is annoying if you're partnered with him," Carol mused. "Just ask Dawn. He's lucky to be alive."

Michonne laughed. "Yeah, he came close to seeing how good her aim is." Michonne gazed at the baby girl in her arms. "But it is sweet."

"Yeah, we'll see how sweet it is when it's you." Andrea wore a smile nevertheless, and she peeked over at Shane and Caesar, shaking her head and repressing the urge to smile wider.

"It's official. We _are_ back in sixth grade." Lori blocked the smack with the throw pillow from Andrea, and she chuckled. "Maybe fifth grade is more accurate."

"Oh, ha ha." Andrea whacked her once more. "Shane does it too. He just hides it better."

"There is only one place Caesar can hide his emotions," Carol stated, "and that's in the interrogation room."

"I'm not committing a murder merely to see my husband act like a normal man around me, but thank you." She gestured to her daughter. "And he'd never survive her and Keira alone, especially when puberty kicks in."

"Is he one of those dads who's gonna try and force his daughter to wait until she's thirty to date?" Lori motioned for Michonne to hand over Em, but Michonne turned toward Andrea, and Lori narrowed her eyes slightly.

"No. I'm positive he'll run a background check on whoever Keira and Em date, but he doesn't seem to worried. Yet. Keira is only eight, so he has nothing to worry about." She didn't want to see the day her daughters brought their dates home. She knew how Gloria was with her. The woman practically wanted her to recite her entire family tree and every disease that ran in her family. It was terrifying. It happened in the ten minutes Caesar went upstairs to either wipe something off his shirt or use the bathroom. It was a sneak attack, and she had respect for Gloria because of it, but no. If Caesar had even a drop of that in him, Andrea would handcuff him and toss him in the closet with a bowl of water. She wouldn't subject some poor kid to _that_.

"Ten bucks says he does the background check and demands to know everything about this kid." Lori slid off the table to get something to drink. "Twenty, if he does it from the moment she tells you about the kid."

"That's easy money."

"Exactly."

"Speaking of your kids," Carol murmured so only Andrea would hear her, "did you two talk about it?"

"Yes. We did. I have appointment set, and he's coming with me. I tried to tell him he didn't have to, but I think stopping rain would be simpler." She sucked air in through her teeth. "But we're good. Well, at least in that area."

"What other areas are you poor in?" Lori returned with a bowl of chips, salsa and a beer. She plopped down on the floor between the armchair where Carol sat and the couch where Andrea was, crossing her legs.

"We've already discussed it, but we need to make more time for ourselves. Since Em is so young, and we have time consuming jobs, we talked about doing weekly dinners here. Once Em is older, we'll start going out."

"I can babysit." She dipped a tortilla chip in the salsa. "God knows I have too much time on my hands."

"You live about two hours away," Andrea commented.

"I can pick the girls up." She griped around a mouthful of chip. "It gives me an excuse to get out of the house, and maybe I can spend more time with my niece."

"Your niece?" Michonne arched a brow. "Which...niece? There are a lot of girls around here."

"Sophia, of course." She leaned back on her hands. "And Mika. I know Keira pretty well already."

"I'll consider it, but no promises. I have separation anxiety," Andrea confided. "I thought after having Keira and working through it would set me for life, but it's worse now. I barely trust Gloria, and she's had three kids, plus the many baby cousins that pass through her house for holidays or weekends. I have to talk myself into it. Caesar doesn't have a problem with it, and I know Gloria won't let anything happen to her, but..." She shrugged helplessly, unable to finish the sentence.

"How did you feel leaving her with me?" Carol squinted at her sister-in-law.

Andrea smiled sweetly. "I'm going to get the other dip." She fled to the kitchen.

"I feel the love in this room."

Lori snorted then reached out. "Give me the baby."

"No." Michonne held her closer.

"Give me the baby. I will wrestle you." She rose up her knees. "Please, Michonnne? You can hold her anytime, but I only have tonight. I refuse to let you be the only one to hold her."

"You held her twenty minutes ago."

"For like five minutes." She held her arms out. "Give her to me, please."

"You'll just have to wrestle me." She hushed Em's faint whining, and Lori glared, sitting back on her legs, and Michonne held a finger up. "Did...did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Lori crossed her arms.

"She said she wants me to hold her, so you're out of luck."

"I'll get her by the end of the evening, Michonne."

"Sure, you will. I have the utmost confidence that you _think_ you'll have her by the end of the evening."

"You're a butt munch."

"Every day, all day."

––

Caesar and Shane were in the backyard, firing up the grill and exchanging grilling tips. They were also discussing how who had the better way to lull a baby to sleep, and Caesar was winning as he had more experience. He had a large family, and he'd been dealing with babies since he could properly hold one. Thank God for that, or he'd have just cried when Andrea left him alone with Keira for the first time. He did most of the work the first couple weeks as Andrea had grown this little life and then _pushed it out of her body_ , he figured it was the least he could do. Shane chuckled around his beer and continued to argue with him. It was all in good fun.

Judith and Em briefly met. Michonne either had the magic nap touch or Em was already worn, but either way, Em was down for the count. She and Judy had a cute moment then Andrea tentatively allowed Lori to take her upstairs for her nap. Carol had to assure her Lori could do it, and there was the monitor, so if Lori didn't do it right, she could swiftly amend it.

"This is getting pathetic." Andrea gripped the monitor Caesar had picked up, watching Lori gently lay Em down. "Lori's had two kids. Why am I this stressed out?"

"It'll pass." Michonne slid a glass of non-alcoholic wine over to the stressing mother. "Rosita dropped it off. We might as well make use of it."

"Great, not-wine ought to calm my nerves." She fiddled with the stem of the glass and lowered the monitor. "I hate being clingy. I loathe it with every fiber of my being."

"At least you're not a smother yet."

"I'm about to get there." She tried the wine and groaned slightly but had another drink.

"Be lucky that's your biggest problem." Carol pulled out the ingredients for the side dish she was making.

"What's your biggest problem?" Andrea propped her head up on her chin, trying to avoid the screen that reflected her child and friend. "It might make me feel better about being a smother."

"No."

"What? C'mon! You can't just say something like that and not tell us." She scooted closer to her, leaning toward her, restricted by the kitchen table being between them. "What's going on with you? Please, talk to us. Let us help."

"I'm sure Michonne has more interesting problems." Carol shot her a pleading look, but Michonne was "busying" herself by trying to decide if she wanted wine or beer, and Carol heaved a sigh.

"It can't be as bad as you're making it out to be," Andrea pressed. "And if it is, so what? We care about you, and we'll help you through it."

"It's nothing! You're pressing for information I don't have to give, so let's just drop it. There ara million other things we can talk about."

"I'm kind of curious now." Michonne lowered herself down beside Andrea, holding a glass of red wine. "Why are you fighting this? Is it serious?"

"Does it have to do with Daryl? Are there issues?" Andrea saw Carol swallow, and she folded her arms on the table. "Did you have a fight? Is that why he's not here tonight?"

"It wasn't a fight," Carol amended, flicking bits of either cracker or cookie off the kitchen table. She suspected it from Keira's after school snack.

"Then what was it?"

"Did he propose?" Michonne guessed. "Or...are you pregnant?"

Carol buried her face in her hands and shook her head. "No, no. He didn't propose."

"So, you're pregnant?" Andrea shot out of her seat. "Holy shit."

"Language!" Lori motioned to her daughter in the living room, playing with little purple ball. "And what the heck did I just overhear?"

Carol glared at her sister-in-law. "I am not pregnant either. I figured that would be assumed."

"Oh." She sat down. "Well, I haven't been sleeping properly, so let's blame my outburst on that."

"What did I miss?" Lori leaned against the counter. It was the best position. She could see both Carol and Judith from here.

"Carol and Daryl had something," Michonne filled her in, "but we don't know what, because Carol doesn't want to talk about it."

"It's not pregnancy or a proposal, and they already live together," Andrea added.

"He told you he loved you, didn't he?" Lori inquired, meeting those sapphire eyes.

Carol paled and dropped her gaze and hands to her lap, not replying, though her actions said it all.

"He told you he loves you?" Andrea was grinning. "That's great, Carol. Or...you know, it should be."

"What did you tell him?" Michonne studied the silver-haired woman across from her. "Carol?"

"I didn't say... _anything_ ," Carol disclosed, still unable to meet any of their gazes.

"You...said nothing?" Lori gaped.

"What exactly happened?" Andrea demanded. "Was it in the heat of the moment? Or had he been trying to work up to it? What was the situation?"

"We were in his room, and we'd...just had sex, and he was looking at me then...then he said it. I love you." She could still hear it exactly as he'd said it and chills ran down her spine, goose bumps ran along her skin at the sound. "And my phone rang, and I had to leave to meet Michonne and Caesar."

"You just left?" Lori exclaimed. "Wh—what did you say to him?"

"I don't know. I think I apologized, maybe said I had to go." She knew this morning, but her mind had been scrambled since. "I didn't know what to say or do, so I showered, dressed and left. He texted me earlier, and that's all the contact we've had since."

"That explains why you had an attitude all day." Michonne drank from her glass. "You should call him."

"No, she needs to talk to him, face to face," Andrea corrected.

"And say what?" Carol interjected before they began a conversation of what she should do without even asking her. "You don't know what I feel or what I want from my relationship with him, so what do you two think I should say to him? Hmm?"

"How you feel about him," Michonne replied. "Tell him you love him, tell him you care for him, tell him you're not there yet, but just tell him. You can't leave it like this, and you already know that. That's why you haven't let your phone out of your sight for the entire day. He won't make the first move, so you have to."

Carol started to shake her head.

"You can't avoid this, not like you do everything else until it takes on a life of its own and confronts you." Lori pushed off the counter. "You need to talk to him and... You know, I don't know. You're right about it being your relationship and your feelings, but he has a right to know what those feelings are. What your relationship with him is to you and how you feel about him. If he loves you, and you don't love him or can't love him then you need to...end things. You both deserve better than that."

"But I do!" Carol weakly cried. "I do love him. I love him, and it hurts! It physically hurts me to think about how much I love him, but to put it into words... I feel like I'd throw up."

"You're just nervous."

"No, Lori. The thought of telling him how I feel makes me gag. I almost threw up my lunch." She dropped her arms on the table and dragged a hand through her hair. "My stomach ties up in knots, and I can't breathe. That's not normal, and you can't tell me it is."

"People experience love differently." Andrea intertwined her finger. "Like me and Caesar. It isn't the same as Lori and Shane."

"Did you choke on your lunch thinking about your feelings?" Carol hissed unintentionally. "I didn't think so."

"I panicked." She lowered her eyes to the glass in front of her. "I—It nearly ended our relationship."

"What?!" Carol, Lori and Michonne exclaimed.

– – –

" _I think this is done for." Caesar pointed to the ivy plant Amy had given her as housewarming gift two years ago. "I tried to save it, but I lack a green thumb, and I don't think it's supposed to be shrived and brown."_

" _Oh, no." She set the file she'd been reviewing down on the couch and approached him and the plant. "Not Henry."_

" _Henry?" He poorly held back a grin. "You—you named your plant?"_

" _No, Amy did, but it stuck." She clicked her tongue and grasped the pot it rested in. "That's the fourth one."_

" _You make a habit of killing plants?"_

" _I work a lot, okay? I can't always water them, and I sometimes forget I have them. I told Amy not to buy me anything I have to tend to daily." She opened the trash can and tossed it in. "This is why the real Henry is with Amy."_

" _Is Henry actually a pet?"_

" _He's a dog, yes. His name isn't Henry anymore though. She changed it when I made her adopt him."_

" _You made her adopt a dog?"_

" _My roommate from college and I bought him, but she was sole the owner. He just slept in my bed. When she moved out, she left him behind, and I couldn't tend to him so yeah, I made Amy take him in."_

" _Well, you're a lovely sister." He curled a finger through the loop in her jeans and tugged her closer, snaking his other hand around her waist. "Let's hope you're better with kids."_

 _She peered up at him. "Unless you've been hiding a love child from me for the past five months, I don't know what kids you're talking about." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "And I don't think I'll have to worry about it."_

" _What do you mean?"_

" _I don't know if I want to have kids," she admitted. "You know how hectic my schedule is. We had hot dogs in your car for our last date."_

" _Yeah, but it'll be different when it's our kid, not a last minute date."_

 _She gazed at him. "You've thought about us having a kid?"_

" _Well...yeah." He scrutinized her. "Of course I have."_

" _Why?"_

" _Because...because..." he stammered and faltered._

" _Because?" She leaned away from him, her hands now on his chest. "I need to know the end of that sentence, Caesar."_

" _Because I—I love you." He cupped her hips. "I'm...in love with you."_

" _You..." She stepped back out of his arms. "You love me?"_

" _Yes, I love you." He didn't move a muscle, his heart racing at the panic rising in her eyes, and he wished he hadn't said that. "Is that a problem?"_

" _Is it a problem?" She laughed once, but there wasn't a trace of humor in it. "Is there a problem?"_

" _Well, is it, or are you just going to repeat my question?"_

" _Yes! Yes, there is a problem!"_

" _And that problem is?"_

" _We—this—I—" she fumbled for words and turned from him. "This wasn't supposed to be...serious."_

" _'Wasn't supposed to be'? What, did you make a bet with someone?"_

" _Oh, God." She covered her mouth with her hand._

" _I'm guessing you lost."_

" _I didn't make a bet!" She whirled around. "This wasn't supposed to serious."_

" _Then what the hell was it supposed to be?" he yelled._

" _Fun! Easy! A fling, if you will!" She searched his onyx eyes, trying to find words to convey her thoughts, her emotions. Of course she was unable to properly do so when she didn't know her own thoughts or emotions when it came to him. "I was supposed to be able to look back and think about this as a fun...fling, not...not this. Not commitment, not—not this."_

" _Fun? Fun? You saw our relationship as fun?" He scoffed. "It's been over five months! What the hell kind of "fling" do you think this is?"_

" _I don't know, but love? Children?" She threw her arms out. "I didn't—I don't even know if I want to get married, let alone have children!"_

" _I thought we'd talk about it at some point, but clearly we're not even in the same book, let alone page, so you know what? Let's just forgot I ever said anything. Let's just forget this ever happened, so you can pretend it was a "fun" thing."_

" _Caesar." She jerked forward to grip the only thing she could reach, but he yanked his arm back and backed away from her and out the front door. "Caesar!"_

––

 _A week had passed since their fight, neither had spoken a word to the other or even about the fight, and on the Monday of the next week, Rosita had had enough of Caesar's moping. He carried himself from room to room of his shared apartment with Carol, who was currently caught up in undercover work, and Rosita only hung around to keep an eye on the big lug as she'd promised Carol she would. She really wished she hadn't made that promise._

 _He slumped down on the couch, still in the same gray sweatpants and black t-shirt he'd been in for the last four days, and he stacked his hands on his chest, staring at the ceiling._

" _Would you please take a shower and get out of the apartment?" Rosita worked on decryption. The suspect's computer heavily encoded, and she'd spent the last two days at the station trying to crack it until Michonne forced her to go home and rest. She didn't say how she'd rest. "You're making me more miserable than this code."_

" _I'm fine," he rumbled. "I don't wanna go out tonight."_

" _Then I'll force you out of the apartment and lock the door." She raised her eyes from the screen of the computer. "You need to go out somewhere. Like to the gym or to have dinner. Hang out with the guys. You need fresh air."_

" _Don't." He waved off her concern. "Just don't."_

" _You are turning into a slob." She closed the laptop and marched over to him. "You are becoming not even half of the guy I like to be around! So, it was a bad breakup. Boo hoo. I get it, but you can't let her destroy you like this, not without talking it through."_

" _Talking what through? We wanted different things." He glowered up at her. "She wanted a sex, and I wanted...more."_

 _Rosita groaned. "Are you just going to sit around here and whine for three months? Like you did over Kat?"_

" _No, no. I've decided to sit around and mope for four months just for the hell of it." He rolled away from her. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"_

" _No. Carol asked me to take care of you. I had hoped Andrea would be the one to do it, but I suppose not. I guess I'll just have to clean up around here and make you dinner, but I expect some effort from your part. You need to clean yourself up, take a shower and shave. You look like a hungover frat boy."_

" _I don't need you to take care of me. I don't want you to, so much go home and leave me be. I can take care of myself."_

" _Evidently not, as you've only eaten once in the past couple days. You haven't bathed, and when was the last time you left this apartment? You've taken a week off. You never take time off your job unless you've been hospitalized." She folded her arms over her chest. "Why was this woman so important? I don't understand. You didn't even care for—"_

 _He peeked over his shoulder when she cut off and chuckled once humorlessly, swinging off the couch and stomping toward his room. "Get it now?"_

 _She turned on her heel to face him as he disappeared into his bedroom, and she sighed. She grabbed her coat from the couch and headed out the front door. She didn't know Andrea all that well, but if she waited for her to come around and talk to him, Caesar might rot in his bed. The idiot._

––

 _Andrea sorted the mail, laying the bills on the counter, and she added more coffee to her mug. She had a few minutes before she had to leave for work, so she gathered her things and finished her coffee, choosing to not have breakfast. She would settle for a large lunch. If she could manage to swallow it._

 _She shouldered her bag and opened the door, finding Rosita Espinosa on the other side, and she blinked._

" _Hey." Rosita flashed a bright grin. "It's good to see you."_

" _What are you doing here?"_

" _I came to see you." She moved by Andrea and entered her house. "Nice place. It could use a plant or two, but I guess the crypt feel is all right too."_

 _Andrea rolled her eyes. "I have a meeting in half an hour. If you want to redecorate my apartment, do it some other time."_

" _I'm not here about your place." Rosita locked eyes with her. "I'm here about your man."_

" _My man?" She bobbed her head twice. "See, I don't have one, and I don't want one, but thanks for stopping by."_

" _Wow, not getting laid on a regular basis turns you into a real bitch, doesn't it?" Rosita pressed her lips together, brow arched at her best friend's ex._

 _Andrea scoffed. "Are you serious right now? What the hell do you want? I have a job, one that requires me to actually be there. I can be a few minutes late, so make this quick."_

" _Why did you even agree to date him?" Rosita snapped. "If you just wanted sex, I'm sure there were other guys around for you to screw. It's not difficult to see Caesar isn't...the type of guy you use and easily lose, so why?"_

" _Did he send you over here?" She slammed the front door shut. "He can't come himself? He sends you to handle this?"_

" _He'd probably handcuff me to his bedpost before he'd let me come here. He doesn't know I'm here, and I suggest we keep it that way. So when you talk to him—and yes, you will be talking to him—you'll have come to this decision all by yourself. If you mention me, it'll likely only wound him further, so just keep that mind." She closed the space between them. "He's a good man, and you know that. You also know this wasn't some "fun fling" to look back on when you're all silver-haired and wrinkled. You wouldn't have put as much effort into the relationship if it were meant to be a simple dalliance."_

" _What do you want from me?" The glare had left her eyes and only hollowed steel remained._

" _Oh, I don't know. To put on your big girl panties and tell Caesar you love him." She smirked at the flicker of fear in those steel orbs, and Rosita moved closer. "I can read people well. I'm not just the computer girl, so yeah, I know you love him. He's a lug, but he's a good man, easy on the eyes—if that's your type—and he has a good heart. You spend ten minutes with the guy, and you know that much. He can be overbearing, and I can't promise he won't drive you insane, but I can promise he'll love you the rest of your life, if you'll let him."_

" _What do you know of it?" She adjusted the strap to her briefcase._

" _I saw him go through a break up as rough as this one, only he didn't love her. Or if he did, it wasn't even a shadow of much he loves you. You're...every mushy love song to him, and he's like family to me, and it hurts to see him suffer like this. I can pretend it doesn't and prod him until he kicks me out, but I just want to help him. If that means trying to put you guys back together or at least letting him get closure then I'll do it." She slipped her hands into her back pockets. "Besides Carol's deep under, and I can't call her up to deal with her brother, so I have to step up to the plate. Her shoes are impossible to fill, so I have to do this my way. Her way would involve a lot of time and crap that Caesar probably needs, but I'm not her therefore you will meet him tonight at his place and talk it out. Dump him, love him, fuck him then dump him—I don't care, just sort it out. If I have to pick up one more container of take out, his mother will kill me."_

 _She barely nodded. "She probably will."_

" _Now go talk to him. After work or before work, it's up to you. I have a decryption to get back to."_

 _Andrea moistened her lips. "He doesn't know you're here?"_

" _No. He thinks I went to the station, but the minute you show up, he'll guess what happened. He's good at his job, but just try and lie to him. I don't want him to know I stuck my nose in this. He'll know I care, and he'll never let me hear the end of it."_

" _I'd never reveal the best of you," Andrea mused._

" _Good. If you'll excuse me." She tugged the door open and strolled out without a second backward glance._

 _Andrea turned to the half open door and rolled her lip between her teeth, checking the time on her watch. She groaned softly and hurried out the door. She was going to be more than a few minutes late. She hoped she caught him in time, or he'd have her head._

––

 _It was going on ten in the morning when Caesar crawled out of his room. Rosita was right about him needing to be more active, and he knew Carol would be on his case the moment she returned if she saw their place in this condition. He began to throw away the take out containers and collected the laundry, disposing of it in the hamper. He made a note to do a couple loads, or he'd be returning to work in t-shirts and shorts. No matter how much Michonne liked him, she would never let that level of unprofessional-ism slide._

 _After the suggested shower, Ceasar had a late breakfast of eggs and toast. He leaned against the counter and gazed out the window, remembering the last time he'd been looking out this window. Carol had been working late, so he brought Andrea over. They were making dinner together, but she burned it, so she was scrubbing the pan, and he came up behind her to provide more elbow grease. The meal was forgotten, and they wound up ordering Thai. She stained his favorite shirt._

 _He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to get out of here. He had too many memories of her in this apartment, so Rosita's idea it was. He and a couple of the guys would go out for drinks. If he was lucky, he'd forgot the events of last week. If not, maybe he'd find...whatever the hell he needed to get over this. Even if he wasn't sure he wanted to get over it._

 _He swiped the landline from the counter, having ditched his phone in his work pants days ago. The battery likely was dead, and that spared him from having to view the lock screen picture of Andrea. If he saw it, he'd try to call her, and calling her was the last thing either of them needed._

 _A knock on the door caught his attention, he asked Rick to hold on, and he answered it, hoping it was Rosita so he could apologize. Perhaps even earn an apology in return._

 _However when the door swung up, it wasn't Rosita on the other side. It was the woman he'd been trying to not think about for the past week, looking more beautiful than he remembered, and he swallowed hard, telling Rick he'd call him back._

" _Hi." She tried to smile, but she wasn't sure if it met her eyes._

" _What are you doing here?" He moved deeper into the apartment, tossing the phone on the couch._

 _Andrea took that as an offer to enter and closed the door behind her. "I need to talk to you."_

" _What is there to talk about?" He seated himself in the chair furthest away from her. "Do you want the stuff you left behind? I—I can get it. It's all in a box anyway."_

 _She shook her head, a loose strand of blonde hair falling in her face, and she cleared her throat. "No. That's not why I'm here." She met his eyes. "You look good."_

" _Yeah, you too."_

" _I like the beard." She gestured to his jaw. "It suits you."_

" _Haven't gotten around to shaving." He unthinkingly rubbed a hand down his jaw. "What are you doing here, Andrea? I know it's not to compliment me. It's not to retrieve your things. What is it? I'd rather we keep this short."_

" _I wanted to apologize." She placed her hands on the back of the armchair across from him and held his gaze that steadily shifted into a glare. "I need to explain myself, so please let me."_

" _Why should I?"_

" _Because last week you told me you loved me." She tightened her grasp on the rough material of the armchair. "I was hoping...that if you still feel that way, you'd let me explain."_

" _...if you still feel that way," he echoed. "Because falling out of love is an effortless task."_

" _I didn't mean—"_

" _Sure, you didn't." He expelled an exasperated scoff. "What do you need to explain?"_

" _When we first began to date, I didn't see our relationship going very far," she began. "I didn't think we'd make it past the fifth date, let alone the fifth month, so when you told me you loved me...it threw me. Nobody's ever said that to me and meant it the way you did—erm, do. It scared me, to be honest. We were just fooling around and having fun and then all of a sudden you love me and what follows after that is a diamond ring, and a suburban house, and—and a mini van, and children! I can't even take care of a plant, let alone another life, yet here you are expecting me to be able to simply because you love me and want to—"_

" _Wait, wait, wait. When I did I ever say I wanted to marry you?" he cut her off. "Yeah, I mentioned kids, but it was mostly a joke."_

" _No, it wasn't. You're the kind of guy who plans ahead. You probably already have our China picked out."_

" _No, I don't."_

" _Not anymore, you mean."_

 _He leaped out of his chair and over to her. "Don't put words in my mouth. I only said I love you, not let's get married and have a clan of kids in some crappy little residential area! And even if I wanted those things with you, it's clear you don't so why mention them? Why come all the way over here?!"_

" _Because I happen to love you too!" she shouted. "And I didn't know how to tell you that! I planned on just screwing around, because the last relationship I was in was shit. I had no idea how serious this would become or how much I'd...love you. It wasn't supposed to be like this." She averted her eyes, tears building up in those gunmetal orbs._

 _He caught her chin to force her to look at him and demanded, "And why not?"_

 _She opened her mouth to answer but nothing came to her, and she moved his hand from her chin, shaking her head. "I should go."_

" _I didn't mean to fall in love with you either, you know." He kept her in place with only his gaze, as she'd moved his hand. "I wasn't looking for you to enter my life and become so important. I thought we'd be over after two or three months, but after two or three months had gone by, we were still together, and I was in love with you. I tried to ignore it. I really did, but it doesn't work. You do a lot of things but not ignore love. I wish you could. I wish I could just turn around and not love you anymore, but I don't get that luxury. I'm gonna wake up tomorrow and love you. I'll wake up the day after that—next week, maybe even next month—and love you. And you're scared? I'm scared!"_

 _The tears in her eyes only increased, but she refused to cry. She swallowed and blinked hard. "You don't want to love me?"_

" _Not at first."_

" _And why not?"_

" _Because I knew you weren't looking for serious or for love, and I didn't want to screw things up, but I did anyway. I guess I always will. Probably why I'm the screw up of the family."_

" _You didn't screw anything up."_

" _Oh, no? Tell that you someone who wasn't there when we broke up, despite loving each other."_

 _She pressed her lips together tightly and observed him. "Mmm."_

" _I've been told I'm easy to get over, so there you go."_

" _Why are you so stupid?" She glared. "I didn't come over here to tell you I love you just so we could remain broken up!"_

" _I can't be with someone who runs every time I confess my feelings!"_

" _I didn't run! If you'd just given a second to..." she dropped off._

 _He chuckled. "You'd what? Tell me how "fun" this things between us was meant to be? Tell me my feelings are an inconvenience to your libido? What? What could you possibly have told me following my confession? Hmm?"_

" _I don't know, okay? I reacted atrociously, and I shouldn't have said that. I meant it, but I didn't. You mean more to be than some—"_

" _Late night tryst?"_

" _Damn it, Caesar, if you'd just let me speak!"_

" _Floor's all yours." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, Harrison?"_

" _Can you get passed what I told you? I am sorry. I shouldn't have called our relationship a fling. It wasn't. It meant more to me than that—clearly—but if you can't forgive me for that then we're just wasting our time."_

" _Why should I forgive you?"_

" _Because I apologized, and I didn't mean what I said. I came here today, trusting my assistant to conduct a meeting where my presence was mandatory, and I might walk in work later today to only be immediately terminated, because I was trying to prove to you that I do love you!"_

" _You—you ditched a meeting?"_

" _I didn't ditch. I just...gave my notes and the information to my assistant."_

 _His gaze softened. "You... you picked me over your job?"_

" _If you want to look at it like that then, yes, I did."_

 _He grinned suddenly. "You love your job."_

" _I refuse to say anything to that." She pointed at him. "Not going there."_

 _He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her hips, bringing her close. "You don't have to go there."_

" _Good, because I wasn't."_

" _I'm sorry for what I said." He bumped his forehead gently against hers. "And I do love you."_

" _I'm sorry too," she whispered. "And I know." She brushed her thumb over his jawline._

 _He caught her smirk. "What?"_

" _Nothing." She tilted her head. "I really do like this."_

" _I'll have to shave it for work tomorrow."_

" _Oh." She skimmed a finger down across his lips. "So that gives us tonight."_

" _What exactly will happen tonight?"_

" _I might lose my job tomorrow, so why don't you assist me in forgetting about that?"_

" _I think I can do that."_

" _I think you can too." She chuckled and kissed him, but he moved his mouth from hers. "What?"_

" _Say it, and I'll do anything you like."_

" _Say it?"_

" _Yeah." He stroked her cheek. "I've suffered long enough, don't you think?"_

" _Oh, poor you."_

 _He laughed. "C'mon, just say it."_

 _She curled her fingers around the collar of his t-shirt, balling the material and drawing him near. "I love you, Caesar." She smirked. "Happy now?"_

" _I'm thrilled." He kissed her._

– – –

"I feel like every story about you and Caesar has sex in it somewhere." Lori worked on the lid to the guacamole.

"I wish." Andrea refilled her glass.

"I can't believe you never told us that." Carol wrapped her arms around herself. "No wonder he waited so long to propose."

"We'd only been dating for five months, not a year, and I wasn't expecting our relationship to be my last. He's forgiven me for it, so stop acting like I ruined your favorite sweater." She tucked hair behind her ear. "We don't talk about it."

Michonne scooted back in her chair. "Did he ever find out what Rosita did?"

"I don't think so." She thought it over. "If he did find out, he never told me."

Michonne chuckled, now realizing why Caesar had fought so hard for Rosita when she was under investigation. "Why can't you tell Daryl you love him?"

"I don't know." She inhaled as much as her lungs would allow. "I honestly don't know. I can tell the girls I love them, and my family, but not him."

"Is he the first guy you've ever wanted to say "I love you" too?" Andrea inquired, watching her friend shrink back. "Wait..."

"Not even Rick?" Lori's brows shot up.

She shook her head. "I had a boyfriend in high school, but it wasn't like this."

"You've never been in love?"

"I'm sorry. When did I have time? Between living on the streets and being the target of a maniac sniper?" Carol bitterly retorted. "I've always been better at the job than relationships."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is, and no matter how many stories you tell me, it won't change that." She slid out of her seat. "Let's just get cooking, okay?"

– – –

Dinner went well, and they stopped talking about her inability to tell Daryl her feelings. Shane and Lori—mainly Lori—hogged Emelita's time, and Carol spent a majority of the evening with Judy and Carl. Judith was obsessed with the book _The Velveteen Rabbit_ , and Carol listened to her read it to her with some struggle, but overall she knew the book well. Best of all, Carol successfully blocked out the reason behind the looks her friends were casting her way.

"Let me lend you a hand." Carol pulled down the plastic ware for the leftovers, praying the lids off so Caesar could place the remaining food inside. "I'm impressed by your grilling capability."

"Well, Andrea lent me a hand." He grinned.

"I figured." She returned his smirk and found the lid for the glass dish containing the mac and cheese. "Okay, when did she tell you?"

"When I made the chicken." He pressed the top until it clicked. "She's just concerned."

"I don't need her concern. It's all right. Daryl and I will work it out." She grasped the tongs and dropped drumsticks into a container for Lori and Shane to take home with them. "I need to organize my thoughts is all."

"Thoughts and feelings aren't the same thing."

"I already know my feelings," she remarked. "I simply don't know how to...communicate my feelings, and in order to do that, I have to organize my thoughts."

"How about you just, oh I don't know, tell him!" he propounded. "It's not mission impossible, Carol. It's three little words."

"No, if they were three _little_ words, it wouldn't have nearly destroyed you and Andrea."

"It didn't. We're fine. We both felt the same way, as you and Daryl do. All you gotta do is blurt it out. At this point, it might be the only thing you can do."

"It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, why would you pull out "at this point"?"

"Carol, the man told you he loved you and you bailed."

"I didn't bail. I had to leave for work."

"That's an excuse. Had work not intervened, would you have told him?" His brow arched in an _Uh-huh, I'm right_ gesture when she scowled at him. "I didn't think so."

"Don't." She began to fill a container to take home for Daryl. "You don't know—"

"What? You? Yeah, keep telling yourself that." He clamped a hand down on her shoulder and turned her to face him. "Let me give you some advise."

"Because it's always worked out well."

"Just listen to me, all right? I know what you're going through, how much it sucks that you can't express your feelings."

"I'm not you in seventh grade, Caesar, and to be honest, she was never interested in you. Or any other man."

"Would you just let me talk?"

"Fine."

"Don't overthink it, okay? It really is okay to just blurt it out. You love him, and it's just a feeling. It's not the end of the world. Once it's said, you'll see that."

"The last time I said I love you to anybody who wasn't..." She huffed and pressed a few fingers to her temple to combat a headache forming there.

"It was to that guy, right?" Caesar grasped the bigger bowl to dump the burgers in and peeked at her. "It was junior year of high school. I don't remember his name, but he's the guy you first slept with, right?"

"How do you even know that?"

"The same way you know I didn't really join the yearbook staff."

"You came home and found him passed out naked in your bed?" She crossed her arms. "I somehow doubt that."

"No, I came home and found you two naked in your bed," he amended. "I needed twenty bucks, and if I asked Mom, she would have said no, so I was going to ask you. The door was ajar, and I caught a glimpse of you two and bolted."

"At least I had the decency to knock."

"We were drunk."

"I know." She failed to uphold their pact that night, but it really didn't count. They were minors, and at least Caesar knew who he was getting into bed with. "Any girl who would willingly sleep with you as a teenager would have to be. Or was there a bet behind it?" she jested.

"What was so wrong with me as a teenager?"

"You already know what was wrong, because you've changed drastically since." She set the bowl for Daryl on the table. "I'm going to get the girls. It's pretty late."

"I wasn't that bad," he argued.

"No, you're right—you were worse."

"Who was worse?" Andrea set the empty brownie dish in the sink.

"Oh, nothing." Carol smiled sweetly. "Although I am about to leave. I have to get my girls."

"Aww, so soon?"

"Andrea, it's nearly eleven, and the girls have school. I'll be down to say goodbye once they're ready."

"I think she had fun tonight." Andrea helped herself to the remaining crudité. "If you minus the Daryl part."

"Maybe." He stocked the second shelf with leftovers and wondered how they were going to eat this much chicken and burgers without having it for lunch and dinner and maybe breakfast. Keira was going to be sick of it by tomorrow.

"Maybe? Why do you say maybe?"

"She's ignoring it." He closed the fridge. "And all I can hope is if they fight about it, the girls don't hear it."

"Unless we keep them over tonight, that won't happen." She shook her head when he opened his mouth. "No. We can't. We already have to spend an hour trying to put Em down. It's been a chaotic night for her, and you have a case, therefore it'll be me up all night trying to put her down. The answer is no."

"Keira would love the company," he pleaded. "And we have those sleeping bags from the camping trip Dale dragged us on. It'd be fun."

"No, it wouldn't be. Plus, it's a week day. They have school."

He sighed. "Fine."

"Don't pout."

"I'm not pouting."

"We've been together for what? Twenty three years? Twenty four? I know when you're pouting."

He beamed at her. "Twenty four years next month."

"Huh." She lowered the carrot she'd been nibbling on. "Well, congratulations us."

"I'd say so." He closed the space between them. "Twenty four years, two kids, no affairs—right?"

"Only my long-standing love affair with wine."

"Oh, good." She giggled, and he kissed her temple. "Well, then absolutely congratulations us." She kissed him on the lips briefly, and he caressed her cheek. "I think I'm done."

"Done?" She narrowed her eyes. "With what?"

"I told Carol once I felt like I waiting, and I didn't know what for, but now...with you and our girls, I think I'm done waiting. I think I've found whatever the hell it was I was looking for."

"You still don't know what it is?"

"Nah, I do know what it is."

"Are you gonna tell me?"

He shook his head. "But you should know you're part of the cause. You and our girls."

"If it's good for you, if it helps you, then I'm glad." She stepped back and bit the end of the carrot off. "I'm gonna say goodbye to our guests."

He nodded. "I'll be there in a sec."

Andrea nodded and met Shane by the door. She set a hand on his arm and hugged him goodbye. "Thank you for coming to see us." She smiled. "I thought we'd only see you on birthdays."

"I wasn't sure if I wanted to come tonight, but Lori insisted. I'm glad she did." He gestured to the couch where Michonne and Em were. "She's a beautiful baby."

"Thank you."

"You might want to keep an eye on Michonne's purse when she leaves," he softly mused.

She laughed. "Trust me, an hour with Em on one of her bad days, and Michonne would be turning herself in."

"I don't doubt it."

Lori and the kids joined them, Andrea hugged Carl and Judith, and Caesar came over and swept Judith and Carl up in a tight hug. Lori was just grateful he had the strength to actually hold them and not drop them. Then again Carl was still small for his age. Shane suspected he'd shoot up near his fourteenth birthday.

"Be safe, okay?" Caesar ruffled their hair once he released them and grinned at the mess he'd made. "It was good to see you guys." He straightened up. "You should stop by more often."

"Or you could come and see us." Lori gently undid Judith's braids and smoothed her hair out. "We have a spare room, so you could stay the night."

"Sure, but you have to swear not to show us houses again." He pretended not to see the glare his wife sent them. "I love the city. I work in it, and our daughter goes to school here. We're not moving out there—unless I have no choice."

"It's not so bad." Shane returned the sheriff's hat that once belonged to Rick—a gag gift when he made detective, as he was a former Southern man—to Carl, adjusting it slightly so it didn't fall in his eyes. "It's kind of nice."

"I bet it is." Andrea didn't allow her husband to speak. "But we're fine here, and we'll come out to see you. When it's a bit warmer, we can come down and go swimming. I think the girls would like that."

Lori nodded and embraced her tightly. "Have a good night, and tell Carol to call me."

"Didn't you see her up there?" Caesar pointed behind his shoulder.

"No, she was on the phone."

He hummed. "I'll let her know."

Andrea closed the door behind them, peering out the window to watch them pull out, and she turned to find Michonne passing Emelita over to her. "Oh, are you leaving?"

"Yes, it's late, and we have a case." Michonne waited as Andrea adjusted Emelita in her arm and hugged Michonne with the other. "Thank you for having me over. I'll make sure Andre comes to the next one."

"Yes, do. Lecture him until he feels bad. I haven't seen him since I was breastfeeding Keira." She released her. "But I do understand. It's a new job in a new city, so when you call him or see him next let him know we're proud of him."

"I will." She smiled. "He'll be eager to come home and see this one."

"Well, he should be. I spent nine long months making her."

She chuckled. "Tonight was...interesting, that's for sure. I had a good time." She gently grasped Emelita's little foot and rubbed her thumb over the soft material of her sheep and cloud socks that matched the outfit she wore. "She's been my favorite Martinez tonight. I'm not sorry to admit that."

"Just don't let Keira know."

"Trouble?"

"A little. She loves being a big sister, and she loves Em, but she doesn't love how much attention we show Emelita. We've tried to explain why Em needs so much attention, but I don't know how well we did. It was nearly the first month since I'd given birth, and we...were a little dead."

"If she still has problems with it, I'll talk to her. I have siblings, so I get it."

"That would be great, Michonne! Thank you."

"What would be great?" Caesar skirted over to them from the kitchen, handing Michonne a bowl of leftovers.

"Michonne said she'd talk to Keira about why Emelita needs so much attention right now. We kind of dropped the ball, I'm pretty sure."

"I can talk to my daughter about that kind of thing," he insisted. "I have two siblings."

"You're the baby of the family," Michonne corrected. "You don't get it."

"And you do?"

"I'm the older of two young siblings, so yeah, I think I do understand it more than you do."

"Fine, you can talk to her, but only if she gets irrational."

"Thank you." She winked at Andrea and Emelita. "I'll see you later. Good night, Em. Goodbye, Andrea, Caesar."

"Good night. Drive home safe." Caesar closed the door behind her. "We are nothing to her. It's all about Emelita."

"Can you blame her?" Andrea cuddled her daughter close. "She's precious."

"According to anyone who ever mistook me for Carol's baby daddy, biracial kids are just the cutest." He smiled lovingly down at his daughter. "They're not wrong."

"When has anyone ever mistaken you for Carol's baby daddy?"

"When we'd go out to lunch," he answered. "It was back when she was pregnant with Sam, and old couples thought we were married and expecting."

"I see."

"What? What's that tone?"

"No one's ever said that to us."

"Yeah, well half of the people in your office thought you'd gone to a clinic to even get pregnant, but you don't hear me using that tone."

"How could you possible know that?"

"Haley tells me all the gossip when I bring you lunch sometimes."

"I don't care about people in my office think, Caesar. It's my private life, and most of them know you now." She promptly began to glare daggers at him. "And that's why, isn't it? You heard that rumor, and you made it a point to announce to my entire—"

"Okay, okay, okay," he inserted, "I did, but only because I love you, and I don't like the way some the guys talk about you. Like you're single and an option for them."

"But I'm not single, not an option, and I would have told them that if they tried for more."

"I didn't want to give them a chance. I did them a favor."

"A favor? How can you see it like that?"

"I know how hard it is to ask you out, and I didn't want them to face the rejection. It's brutal, totally kills confidence."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to say good night to Carol."

"What?"

"Do you think of me as property?" she abruptly demanded. "As something you own?"

"What?! No! No, of course I don't think that! You're my wife, not...not my armchair. Why the hell would you ask me that?" He glanced at Em. "Heck, I said heck. And I didn't tell them so they'd think you belonged to me. I told them because I want people to know you're with me, that I have this...amazing, intelligent, sexy woman as my wife, and it...it bugs me that some asshole newbie or some client will look at you and think you're available."

Her gaze softened, the blush from earlier returned, and a smile ghosted on her lips. "I wear my rings, Caesar, and my desk happens to be littered with pictures of you and our girls."

"I know. I just...can be possessive."

"That's fine, to a certain point."

"I know. I don't worry about random guys asking you out anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because Haley and I worked out a new deal," he joked. "She thinks a guy is into you, and she comes into your office and says, "Your husband's calling about lunch"."

"You do that," she warned, grasping the tie he still wore around his neck, "and you'd better make lunch plans with me."

"I'll talk to her next week about it."

Sophia and Mika came off the steps with Keira, Carol was behind then, texting someone, and Caesar hugged his niece individually goodbye. He kissed Sophia's head and gave her an extra squeeze, knowing she'd caught on to the weird aura around Carol. He pinched Mika's nose, getting a laugh out of her, and he let her hold Daryl's leftovers.

"Did you have a good time?" Caesar crouched down between the girls.

"Yes." Sophia twisted back and forth. "It was awesome to see Carl and Judith again."

"I wish we could hang out before," Mika remarked. "It was really cool to see him and Judy again."

"Well, Andrea made swimming plans, and I'm dragging you two with us." He lowered his voice. "I can't suffer alone."

They giggled, and he took hold of each of their hands. "Promise me you'll suffer with me, okay?"

"Okay."

"Sure thing, Uncle C." Sophia chuckled.

"You're my favorite nieces."

"We're your only nieces," Mika pointed out.

"But still my favorite." He pulled her into a hug and smiled at Sophia. "Take care of your parents for me, okay? They're stupid, so you gotta take care of 'em, and don't tell them I said they were stupid. They'll lecture me."

Sophia wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Promise."

Andrea stood in the kitchen with Carol. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know. I'm tired."

"Are you guys going to talk tonight?"

"I haven't thought about it. I don't know how late he'll be out, and I have a case that's taken a turn no one expected, and I need sleep to figure it out. But it's my issue, my relationship, and I'll solve this." She pulled out a smile and kissed her niece's forehead. "Behave tonight, okay, baby girl? I need your dad to be in top shape tomorrow."

"She promises nothing."

Carol chuckled and hugged Andrea loosely. "I appreciate the talk and dinner. It spared me from having to cook, and I had a good time."

"It was great to have everyone together."

"It was."

"It's so late." Andrea frowned. "You need to get those girls into bed, and don't forget to call Lori."

"I won't." She stumbled toward the door. "Good night."

"Good night."

She met Keira by the door and pulled her into her arms. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah." She grinned. "I love having Mika and Sophia over. Carl's nice, too."

"He is. He likes you."

"I like him."

"Maybe we'll see more of him and his family."

"I hope so."

"Me too." Carol caught Keira watching her mom and dad with her little sister. "She's in good hands. They're just putting her to bed."

"I know. They always take forever with her."

"She's a baby." Carol held Keira's shoulders. "She needs a lot of their time and affection, as you did once, but once she's older, like Judith, she'll be more independent."

"I know."

"Good, because your mom and dad need you to be on good behavior. I know it doesn't seem fair that you have to be on your best all the time when they aren't always, but cut them some slack. They'll appreciate it and make it up to you."

She bobbed her head in comprehension. "I'm gonna help Mom." She kissed her aunt's cheeks and hurried after her mom, gripping her free hand on the way up the stairs.

Carol exited the house, spotting Caesar who had taken the girls to the car after Andrea had pulled him aside to let him know it was beyond Emelita's bedtime, and she approached him. "Hey."

"Hey." He waved to the girls and closed the door. "Just thought I'd get them all buckled in."

"I appreciate it."

"Anytime." He moved toward his house. "Get home in one piece, all right?"

"I will."

"Good night." He waved again to his nieces, who grinned and waved back, and he remained by the stairs as Carol pulled out, and he turned to head inside once they'd fallen out of sight.

– – –

"Daddy." Sophia ran over to him and tackled him in a hug.

"Hey." He chuckled and rubbed her back. "You guys were out pretty late. Had me worried."

"Mom lost track of time, I guess."

"We brought you some leftovers." Mika held out the plastic container. "We ate all the brownies though. Sorry."

"Nah, this is great." He accepted the box and half hugged her with his free arm. "I'll have this for lunch tomorrow. Thanks."

"Did you have fun?" Sophia gazed up at him. "Mom said you were out with Axel and Oscar and them."

"Yeah, it was good." He smiled a little at them. "Did you guys have a good time?"

"Yeah!" they gushed in unison.

He chuckled and heard about what a good time they'd had with Carl and Judith and Keira. He had seen Carol hovering by the door then moved to the kitchen, but he didn't say anything or look at her. He didn't want the girls to pick up on the tension.

"Sounds great, but it's real late, and y'all got school, so you know what that means."

"Yeah." They simultaneously groaned. "Bed time."

"Go brush your teeth and get into bed. Good night, girls."

"Night, Daddy." Sophia kissed his cheek. "Night, Mom!"

"Night, Daryl." Mika smiled. "Night, Carol!"

They padded up the stairs, Carol called good night to them, and Daryl placed his lunch in the fridge, stealing a glance at Carol. They waited about ten minutes in pure silence, Carol motioned for him to follow her, and they glided over to the spare room that had no purpose. It was too small for a bedroom, but Daryl was considering turning it into an office for Carol. If she didn't want it, the girls could do their homework in there.

Carol set her phone on the glass shelf and faced her partner. "How was your night?"

"All right. We had a few drinks, played some pool and darts, and we grabbed a bite to eat. Nothin' fancy." He cleared his throat. "And you?"

"The same. We made dinner, talked, and I saw Lori and Shane. Judith's gotten really big. She looks just like Lori. And Emelita is just as precious as ever. Michonne wouldn't let go of her all night."

"Michonne didn't let go, or Em didn't?"

The first visit at Andrea and Caesar's home resulted in Em refusing to let go of Daryl or be taken from Daryl. She was still really new, like only a couple days out of...Andrea, but if anyone tried to take her or move her, she'd start to fuss and curl closer to Daryl. Or what they assumed was curling. He had to feed her and put her to bed that night, and Caesar made him hug one of her favorite stuffed animals the entire day so it'd smell like him. They placed the toy in her crib, and she was out like a light. She had claimed him as her favorite uncle. Shane stood no chance.

"Michonne, without a doubt."

He nodded. "Either way, it don't matter. She kinda steals your heart anyway."

"She does."

Silence began to sweep through the room, Carol stood away from him, and he was by the door. Neither of them were sure how to go about having this conversation. It wasn't as straightforward as Caesar and Andrea made it seem, and even their start was rough, nearly ending their relationship entirely. Were it not for a certain nosy friend, they might not have gotten back together. Sadly—or perhaps mercifully—Carol and Daryl lived together, thus this talk was unavoidable. It was now, or tomorrow. Though at this rate, it appeared as though it'd be tomorrow.

Carol's mouth dried out down to her throat, so much so that a tickle began to climb up her neck, and she repressed a cough, swallowing hard, hoping saliva would do. She didn't have much of that however, and she smoothed her hands down her blouse, trying to find a way to tell him she loved him. She'd told him once before she had something to say to him but wasn't ready to say it. Surely he'd worked out that this was it, right? Or not, because she hadn't made it apparent that it was love she wasn't ready to say. She felt it, especially now, here, with him studying her thoroughly, almost cautiously. If only she could say it as she had when she was a teenager with such ease, when it was no more than puppy love. What had changed? What caused her to hold her tongue? Who, even?

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck and opened his mouth to speak, only to fail. The speech he'd been gnawing on had fled his mind the moment they were alone. He had no clue what to say to her. He had to know how she felt, and he had to know tonight. He couldn't force his way through his shift and dinner as he had tonight, presuming the worst, and he couldn't sleep without knowing if she loved him or not, if they had a future or not. He needed to know, one way or the other.

Yet he found himself saying the exact opposite.

"Carol, look, you don't have to say anything about what happened this morning."

"I don't?"

"I—it was nothin', just heat of the moment thing. It's all right if you don't feel the same way. Just forget it happened."

"You want me to forget it?" She stared at him. "Seriously?"

He bit his bottom lip and shook his head since he didn't trust his words.

"Then why say so?"

"I dunno!" he erupted. "I—It just came out, all right? I don't wanna pressure you into tellin' me something that may or may not be true, but I gotta know. It's been on my mind all day. I told you I loved you, and you ran out. I know you had work, but you coulda said anything—like we'll talk about this later, or—or somethin', but you didn't! You just bolted!"

"I didn't know what to say!" she shot back.

"How about "I love you too"?" he suggested. "Or—or at least, "Give me time". Hell, even saying you don't feel the same would've been better than just leavin'!"

"No, it wouldn't have been better, and you know it. You want me to say it back to you."

"Of course I do, Carol. I want you to love me back, but I get if you're not there yet. Or I will. Just—just let me know where you are. I—I can't keep tryin' to guess, 'cause I always jump to the worst possible thing."

"Daryl..."

"How do you feel? Where are you? What do you even want from...from this? From me?"

She opened her mouth, but no words tumbled out, and she lowered her eyes. She didn't have to be making eye contact with him to know how disappointed he was by this.

"Carol?" He inched toward her. "Do you care about me at all? Or our relationship?"

"I—"

Her phone interrupted her, ringing loudly in the quiet room, and she nearly jumped, but not because of the jarring sound. She had set the ringtone for that particular number so she'd know to be on alert if he were to ever call, and she gulped, hurrying over to her phone.

"Carol!" He blocked her way. "This is more important than your case."

"No, it's not Michonne." She pushed by him.

"You pick that up now, and—and it's clear what I mean to you."

"It's not like that. You'll just have to trust me." She snatched her phone from the shelf and answered it. "Williams."

Daryl scoffed and nearly slammed his foot through the painted photo leaning against a chair, but everything stopped when Carol collapsed. "Carol!" He caught her before she hit the ground, and he lowered them down, not trusting his right arm to keep her upright. "Carol?" He searched her eyes.

"It—it's the sniper." She met his eyes, her phone slipping through her fingers and colliding with the floor. "Oh, God." She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, God."


	35. Epilogue: Infinite Possibilities Part 2

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Rain had poured down onto the earth the previous night, leaving a damp blanket over the grass and the street, and the sun spent the majority of the morning hidden behind gray clouds. The sky was a darker hue of blue, shadows were rarely cast, and there was no massive crowd tarrying over the small stone. There were no fresh flowers, no weeping mourners, no condolences to be given. Not for him.

Carol stood by her brother, gazing down at the headstone, not a word, ill or kind, uttered. Caesar wore sunglasses, though they weren't necessary. The sun was playing peek-a-boo, and he had no red eyes to hide. The pair said nothing, simply remained there, and Carol couldn't begin to express what she'd been feeling since the warden called and let her know the sniper had been kill in a fight in the yard.

Relief. The man who had taken her son and his father cruelly, prematurely from the world was dead. He couldn't escape from prison and try to kill her daughters and Daryl. He couldn't haunt her with his shadow. He would never touch her or another person she loved ever again. He had gotten his. He was dead. She could press play again, and she could breathe.

Confusion. She and the guards had yet to apprehend the man who had murdered the sniper. The fight broke out among the entire group outside that day, and they had to call in everyone to seize the prisoners, and it was only when they'd restrained the bulk of the group did they see someone had been injured. By that time, he had bleed to death on the asphalt, and the doer couldn't be found. Many of the men surrounding the sniper had his blood on them, but none of them would confess to the deed. The cameras had also been taken offline prior to the fight. That meant it was either an inside job, or someone had been planning this for a while now and managed to get a hacker to shut the system down before riling up the prisoners. The investigation, to say the least, was still ongoing.

Anger. She wanted him to spent the rest of his days rotting in a cell. She wanted him to know he hadn't won. She wanted him to wake up each morning knowing she and her daughter were fine, and he couldn't touch them. He was to suffer as she had suffered the past twelve years without her daughter, without her son, but someone had put a hit out on him, or he simply was caught up in the middle of someone else's conflict and was gone. He was gone like Sam was gone, and he didn't get to endure the hell she had. He didn't have to wake up every morning in that small cell and be forced to think it all over anymore. He was just dead, and that was it. Twelve years of work, two funerals, endless mourning, two months worth of building the airtight case that put him away, and that was it. That was it!

Empty. A new level of hollow. The man who had caused her so much agony, the man who had taken everything she ever created and loved since the second she first felt them away from her, the man who stalked her and hunted her, was no longer in this world. The man who poked and prodded her when she'd caught him, the man who desperately wanted to get inside of her and shatter her, had had his throat slit open in a prison yard. Her mortal enemy was dead and now buried. The biggest threat to her life, to Sophia's life, to Daryl's life, to Caesar's had gone into that final good night, never to be heard from again. His power, his hold on her, whatever was left of it, had vanished.

Or had it? He was dead and buried, yet there she was looking down on him at his grave, and she felt nothing. All of the emotions that had coursed through her after the news had been delivered had been fleeting, and nothing remained. All of the elation and consolation she thought she'd feel should he be killed was nowhere in sight. Only the hollow ringing of a bittersweet victory lingered. Victory? Was this even a victory? She wasn't sure she knew what that would mean anymore.

Either way, it was over. Ed Peletier was dead. She was liberated from his shadow, as were her daughter, Daryl, Caesar and anyone else who he might have used to get to her. The list of untold potentials were free.

The funeral had been short. There wasn't anyone who'd want to say a gentle word to this man, so it didn't matter. After all there were no words to summarize such a man. _Nothing more need be said, the big bad sniper was dead_.

Caesar looked at his sister, who hadn't moved for a good half hour, and he decided against speaking to her. Someone who played a massive part in her life was dead, and she needed to find a way to come to terms with that. He would speak to her later. Now was for her thoughts, and he didn't want to intervene.

"I'll take the girls home with me. Just...call when you're ready." He sauntered over to where Andrea and his girls were with Carol's girls and Daryl. "Let's give her some time and space. She needs it."

"I'll stay," Daryl imparted, his eyes glued to the woman who could double as a statue.

"You sure?" Andrea shuffled her feet to restart the flow of blood, trying to shake off the numbness. "I can stay."

"Nah, you got the baby, and the girls should be with you guys."

"Call us if she doesn't move before nightfall, okay?" Caesar drew Keira and Mika toward the car gently by their hands.

Daryl nodded and stayed by the tree he'd been leaning against. "Sophia, go with them, get some food in you."

"But Dad—"

"No buts."

"She's my mom!" Sophia argued. "She needs both of us, Dad."

"No, she needs to be alone for now. When she needs us, I'll come and get you myself, all right?" He locked eyes with his daughter. "Go on."

"You'd better call."

"I will."

She caught up to her aunt and uncle, looking back once at her parents, and Caesar eased her toward the backseat, assuring her it'd be okay, and she'd be home by tonight. She wasn't so sure, but she climbed into the car with her cousin and Mika, watching her parents until they fell out of sight.

––

The day melted into night, Carol had yet to move, and Daryl paced the tree to keep his limbs from falling asleep on him. He was concerned with how she hadn't moved or spoken, and he wanted to approach her, but he didn't know how. He didn't know what to say. They had only just fought about his loving her and her inability to talk about her feelings—which was pretty damn comical considering that was his part to play—and now she was standing over the grave of the son of a bitch who murdered her child and his father. Of all the scenarios he'd played out in his head, this one sure as hell wasn't on the list.

It was nine 'o clock, Daryl slipped his phone back in his pocket and crept over to her, but when he closed the space, he found she wasn't standing there anymore. She was sitting on the ground, legs crossed, hands in her lap, rocking herself. He dropped beside her, the still moist grass seeping through his jeans, and he dropped his hands in his lap, keeping the quiet.

"I used to dream about this day," she confided in a hushed tone. "I would dream I'd get the call, and he'd have died in some horrid way. It always made me feel better. It made me want to...celebrate—the thought of him being dead. But now...here we are, and I don't feel better. I don't feel like celebrating or spitting on his grave."

"Lori probably will spit on his grave. Maybe throw some confetti."

Her lips twitched as if she wanted to smile, but it didn't quite appear. "I think Shane may come out to dance on it."

"Wouldn't put it past him." He met her eyes. "You all right, Carol?"

"I don't know." She drew in a deep breath and released it. "Should I know?"

"I—It's been a long day, and you've gone through...somethin' big, so it's okay if you don't know."

"They don't know who killed him, or why. He didn't interact with the other inmates. I doubt anyone knew why he was there. So who killed him? Why? Was it a hit? Was it...an accident? Did he get caught up in someone else's fight?" Tears began to fill her eyes. "I don't get it. I did—we worked so hard, and it boiled down to this?" She thrust her hand out toward his grave. "This was what it amounted to?"

He frowned. "What were you expecting?"

"Him to endure!" she snapped. "Like I had to! Like Rick before he was killed! Like Lori and Shane and Carl! Like Caesar! He got off easy, but we—we still have to go through it. Every day, and he got out easy. He..." Her voice broke, and she couldn't continue.

He wrapped his arm around her and tenderly tugged her closer to him. He embraced her and buried his face in her soft hair, allowing her to cry her anger out, and he longed to have the right words to say to her. He didn't have a clue how to sooth her. He didn't have an inkling on how he could brighten her spirits and let her see that only good could from this. He wasn't the guy who said things. He was more of an action guy, but that wouldn't do here. And all he could say to her were two words followed by three little words.

"I'm here," he murmured into her hair. "I love you."

Her fingers grasped his shirt tighter, and her sobs only magnified, but they were tears she needed to shed, anger she needed to bleed out of her, and this was the only form it was taking. It was over. The sniper had lost. She had to claim the bittersweet victory the world handed her. It was over.

– – –

"Just keep 'em through the night," Daryl spoke to Caesar, pacing the length of Carol's bedroom while she bathed in her bathroom. "Tell the girls we'll see 'em bright and early tomorrow morning. Carol just needs some time, but we'll be there."

" _How does she seem?_ "

"Shaken. Lost. I don't fully know if she knows what's going on with her."

" _I can't blame her. Given all he's taken from her and how...how much she worked to make him pay on her terms... I can't imagine what she's going through right now, so I need you to take care of her. I know you love her, probably as much as I love my wife, so I know you can do it. I trust you to do it. Be there for her, keep her sober, do what you have to do to help her._ "

"Of course."

" _Then I'll see you in the morning_."

"Tell the girls we love 'em and good night."

" _Yep. Bye._ "

Daryl set his phone on the dresser, powering it down, and he turned to notice Carol in the doorway, hair damp, wrapped in her robe. He offered her a smile, which she failed to return, and she climbed onto the bed, pulling her legs up and covering herself in the blankets.

"Feel...er, clean?" He knew it wasn't wise to ask if she felt better, but clean? Seriously? Dumbass.

"Yes." She snuffled and pushed silver curls from her forehead. "Was that Caesar?"

"Yeah. He just wanted to check in."

"Is he bringing the girls home?"

"Not tonight."

"Why not?"

"I thought it'd be best if we gave you some space."

"You're still here." She hugged her legs closer, resting her chin on the soft silk of her robe. It was a gift found in a care package from Rosita after she'd been shot. Black cherry, along with everything else in the bag. She had given the bath bomb to Sophia, the lotion to Mika and the massage oil to Andrea on the condition she never tell Carol what she—and her husband—used it for. Or the events following the rub down. She kept the robe and the nightclothes that came with it. Along with lingerie she hadn't even looked at, let alone worn. Some care package, but it was kind of Rosita. Expensive too, but they had to pay her something for her illegal hacking work.

"I—I can go, if you want. I just wanted to make sure you were settled in."

"I wasn't trying to make you leave. I was only pointing out a fact."

"Oh." He sat in front of her on the bed. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes."

"Are you hungry?"

"Not right now. I just want to lie down for a bit."

He nodded. "Michonne said she didn't want to see you back in the office for a while, so you don't have to worry about work."

"I guess that's good news."

"It is good news."

She pulled the covers back from the vacant space beside her. "C'mon, I need some rest."

"You—want me here?"

"I don't want to be alone."

He shifted to be beside her, slipping under the covers, and she coiled up against him. He could smell her shampoo and her soap, and he snaked an arm around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and brought her hand to rest over his breast, feeling his heart underneath. She was able to drift off, his fingers delicately brushing through her hair, and she smiled as the world faded out.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but when her stomach began to twist and pang, she knew sleeping further wasn't an option. She slipped out of bed and dressed in sweatpants and tank top, shrugging on a knitted cardigan just to have layers and warmth. She staggered out of the room and down the stairs, preparing her first meal of the day.

About five minutes into making grilled cheese and hot chocolate, Daryl appeared behind her. He had woken up when he rolled over and she wasn't there. He ran down the stairs to check on her when she didn't call back to him from the bathroom. He was sure he might have twisted his ankle, but it was worth it at the sight of her standing there all bundled up in cardigan with those silver curls messy, her head cocked curiously to the side at him.

"Evening and/or morning," she said.

"Same to you." He looked over the stove. "Grilled cheese? And milk?"

"For hot chocolate. It's too early or late for coffee, and we don't have any tea, but we have a lot of hot chocolate. And grilled cheese is fast. I'm starving, so...I just went with it."

"Here, let me." He claimed the spatula. "I made plenty of these for the girls."

"I can cook for myself."

"I know. I just wanna do it. Sit down and drink your coco."

She chuckled. "Do you want a cup?"

"Yeah, sure."

She prepared the cups of hot chocolate, sitting at the island with her feet propped up on the bar of the stool beside her, and she cupped the mug in both hands, blowing on the milky brown liquid to cool it. She observed Daryl as he cooked for her, adding things to his. She didn't catch exactly what, but there was no way it could be so stuffed with only cheese. She caught a whiff of it too, and it was a bacon-y, onion scent. She wasn't at all stunned to know Daryl Dixon couldn't eat a simple grilled cheese. Although he'd been with her at the cemetery all day, and they both hadn't eaten. He likely needed more than bread and cheese.

She sipped her hot chocolate, he set two plates down on the island and sat beside her, drinking his cooled chocolate drink, and he bit into his sandwich, and she smiled at the massive whole missing, seeing bits of what he'd put inside. She leaned over and wiped away cheese that caught on his cheek.

"Sorry." He rubbed a hand over his mouth.

"It's okay. I had a son, remember? He was messier than you."

"Was he?"

She nodded. "He loves to play with his food. Until he was six, I had to prepare an outfit for him to change into after meals. I don't know who he got it from, but he loved to play with his food and make such a mess." She blamed Caesar and the little boy from _The Christmas Story_.

"Kids are messy," he stated. "Gotta teach 'em not to be."

"Sam grew out of it somewhat. He had his days." She turned slightly toward her plate, but she didn't eat.

Daryl noticed and touched her knee to get her attention. "You okay?"

She rubbed her thumb over the design on her cup, avoiding his eyes for a moment then she raised her head. "I love you."

His brows shot up, not predicting that to come out of her mouth.

She smiled to herself. It felt good to say. It felt right. She set her hand over his on her knee and squeezed it. "I love you."

"I'm a criminal," he mused.

She laughed. "Daryl."

"Sorry." He hoped off the stool and caught her hips, holding her place. "I love you too." He kissed her, and she pushed him back. "What?"

"You taste like food, and it reminded me that I'm starving." He chuckled, and she stroked his cheek. "I'm sorry it took me so long to say it. I've felt it for a long time now, but... I don't know. I couldn't say it until now."

"It's okay." He returned to his seat. "Why don't we finish this then go back upstairs? We can watch a movie."

"Yeah, that'd be great."

––

A movie played on the TV, Carol laced her fingers through Daryl's, the bowl of popcorn untouched on the nightstand, and she checked the time. It was four in the morning, and she wondered how on earth she was going to sleep tonight. After the other night with Daryl and now this, she needed to regulate her sleeping habits.

"You said it was the heat of the moment, but we know that was a lie," Carol murmured. "So how long had you wanted to tell me you love me?"

He flushed. "A while now."

"Daryl."

"I didn't keep track," he lied, "but it's been a couple months now."

"Months?" She gazed at him. "Why did you wait so long?"

"It just didn't seem like the right time. I wanted to wait, see if I could get a read on how you feel, then the other night I uh, couldn't keep it in anymore."

She smiled. "I have another question."

"Yeah?" He helped himself to the popcorn, shuffling in a handful.

"Seeing how it's just us tonight—er, this morning, why don't we break in my bed? We've talked about it for a while now." She smirked at him. "What do you say? Wanna fool around?"

He looked over her bed. "It's a little odd."

She giggled. "What?"

"Used to it bein' my bed is all, and the condoms are downstairs too."

"Because it's always in your room." She pursed her lips.

"Either way one of us would have to down there."

"That's true."

"So, just wanna go down there together?"

"I guess my bed will always be for sleeping."

"You don't sound too sad about that." He pulled her closer as they headed downstairs.

"No, I guess I don't." She wrapped her arms around his neck once inside his bedroom. "I love you, Daryl."

"I love you."

– – –

"Hey." Daryl grinned at his brother, sitting down across from him. "Sorry I'm a little late."

"I'm sure you had your reasons. Like sleepin' with a damn hanger in your mouth." He smirked at his baby brother. "Got another kid on the way, or what?"

He fought to keep from smiling even wider. "No, nah, it ain't that."

"Then what is it?"

"Uh, it's just good between me and Carol." He laughed again. "She uh, told me she loved me."

"I'm impressed. You two finally got that far? I thought I'd be dead before that happened."

Daryl's smile quickly faded into a frowning line. "Don't say that."

"What? I ain't gettin' any younger, and it took y'all this long just to _say_ it to each other! We all already knew you loved each other, but only now have you said the damn words. My grays are more reliable than y'all two."

He shook his head. "It's a big step, all right? After love comes engagement and all that. We... Just be happy for me, all right? It's a big step, and we took it. Both of us."

"I'm happy for you. Let's just hope this engagement comes before the kids graduate college."

"Ha ha."

"I'm serious." Daryl chewed on his bottom lip, and Merle narrowed his eyes. "Wait a minute. You ain't...?"

He stammered. "I—I don't know. I—I mean there isn't anybody else, you know? And Rosita and I passed this jewlery store. We just stepped in for a minute. We—It wasn't serious."

"You went ring shoppin'?"

"Browsing," he corrected. "Deanna's birthday's coming up, and I don't know what to get her, and Rosita suggested earrings. That's why we were there. I glanced at some of the rings, and...Rosita jumped to conclusions. We looked over a few, and I—welll, there was one ring Carol would like. It'd look nice on her too."

"Did you buy it?"

He picked at his thumbnail under the table. "No, just the earrings."

"Why didn't you?"

"It wasn't an easy I love you to get out of her, and I don't think proposing is the next logical step for us. Eventually, maybe I'll go back and buy the ring, but not now. It's too soon, and we haven't talked about it."

"True, it's only been a year."

"Exactly."

"But you just said there wasn't anybody else."

Daryl slouched and swallowed. "It's too soon."

"Uh-huh."

"I didn't come here to talk to you about this." He scratched the back of his head and leaned forward. "I wanna know why you took the fall, and none of that bullshit about—about blood. Or you takin' those guys out. Take all of that away, and tell me why."

"What?"

"Why did you take the fall for this?" he muttered. "I want to know. It's been eating me for a while now. I can't leave until you tell me exactly why."

"You're an idiot. Go buy the ring and propose to her. She'll say yes."

"Damn it, Merle, just tell me."

"Why? It's sorted. Let it go."

"No!" He saw the glare one of the officers gave him and lowered his voice. "No, I need you to tell me. You owe me that much, so just tell me."

"Owe you? Oh-hoo, I owe you, do I? What the hell do you think this place is? A spa? A bed and breakfast? Huh?" Merle gruffed. "But _I owe you_?"

He sighed. "Not like that. I need to know. I can't marry anybody and move on with my life if I don't know. Please, Merle, it's the last favor I'll ask from you."

He dropped his head and shook it. "Can't let this go, huh?"

"No, I can't."

"I did this, because not only do I deserve to be here, but because I owed you. After all the shit I put you through, I had to do this."

"What?" Daryl gaped. "Merle, you didn't—"

"Listen to me. I didn't lay a hand on you, but I did leave you with that fucker! I didn't protect you, and when I finally came to get you, we only ended up in the street. We weren't livin', just barely survivin'. I was trying to look after you, but all I did was screw up time and again until that guy saw somethin' in you." He shook his head. "He did more for you than I did."

"Merle, that ain't true."

"It is. And after all my fucks up, you had a little girl, found her mom and had somethin'...real. I couldn't let you destroy that, so I let it fall on me. You didn't do nothing anyway. You didn't deserve to be in here, missin' Sophia's entire life. She don't need me as much as she needs you and Carol."

He shifted in his seat. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anythin'. It happened. Move on. Let it go. You got so much to look forward to. Proposin' and shit."

"I never said—"

"Haven't you wasted enough time?" Merle rudely cut in. "Sniper stole time from her, time from you, nearly killed you and your relationship, so stop wastin' time, all right? She's gonna say yes."

He smiled. "Thanks."

"It's my job. Now forget I said any of this and tell me when the hell I'm gonna see my niece next."

"Soon. I think next week. We got the birthday party for Carol's other mom, but—" Daryl cut off. "Wait, how di—how did you know the sniper almost killed our relationship?"

After they'd gone downstairs and "fooled around" for a time, Carol had told him her issues with the sniper's murder. He already worked it out for himself, but he listened to what she had to say anyway. Clearly she needed to verbalize it. She spoke for a good thirty minutes on why it bothered her. To be honest, he would have listened to her for days if it would have made her feel better. It was personal, and no one could guess it. You'd have to know Carol, or have overheard it, which Merle couldn't do seeing that he was in prison and unable to have popped up in the hallway. How did Merle know Carol felt she couldn't say I love you partly because it'd been years since she'd last said it in this way and mostly because she feared the sniper would take him away somehow? She'd said it to Rick, not in the same way, but the sniper still kill him. She knew now it was silly to fear, but he understood. The sniper had taken so much from her, and bars and guards didn't seem enough to keep him from taking the rest.

He held a hand up. "Don't tell Carol."

"Why not?" Daryl commanded.

"She came to see me. It was months ago, without the girls, and she told me."

– – –

" _So this is how the great Detective Williams abuses her power?" Merle mused as he approached the small woman. "Bring me any coffee? A donut perhaps?"_

" _Coffee only." She slid it over to him. "It's a birthday gift."_

" _I thank you." He savored the delicious dark substance. "You just come here to for this?"_

" _No. I came to have a word with you." She sat across from him. "I—I had a scare last week."_

" _A scare? What kind are you talkin'? Pregnancy? Death?"_

" _I don't know why I'm talking to you of all people about this." She shook her head, almost laughing at herself. "You won't take me seriously. It's a waste of breath."_

" _You came to me for a reason, what's the reason?"_

" _You're the best person I know who can keep a secret."_

" _That I am." He tipped his cup at her. "So, you're expectin'? Dyin'? Leavin' the force?"_

 _She rolled her eyes and silently admonished herself for selecting Merle of all people. She couldn't confide in her mother. She'd have a stroke and call their priest. She couldn't tell her brother for the same reason, only he'd try to punch the lights out of the problem. And Andrea was too pregnant to hear her problems. She could barely roll over, let alone give Carol advise on her life. She couldn't breathe a word of this to Daryl. He was part of the problem. Well, not problem. Problem wasn't the correct word here, but... at the same time it was._

" _Carol?"_

" _I love your brother," she blurted. "I'm in love with him, and I have been for a couple days now." It dawned on her when they were making dinner for the girls. She couldn't stop thinking about it. She wanted to, as it crept up on her at all hours, despite what she was doing. It was intrusive. Yet she couldn't lie and say it wasn't...amazing. Amazing and intrusive and haunting her every waking moment. She didn't understand how people did this. Loved like more than once in their lives... It would be maddening, but perhaps it wasn't something that happened more than once. Perhaps this kind of love...their love...was rare._

 _His brows met his hairline, it seemed, and he grinned. "Well, congratulations."_

" _I wouldn't be congratulating me."_

" _You haven't told him?"_

" _I—I can't tell him." She averted her eyes and gripped her cup of tea._

" _And why can't you?"_

" _Aside from only ever telling one other guy I'm in love with him, I have this irrational fear that if I tell him I love him...somehow the sniper will," tears reflected in her eyes, "take him from me."_

 _Merle didn't taste the coffee he'd swallowed. "The sniper..."_

" _I know he's locked away, but he's always managed to take the things I love away. I don't know if I can ever tell Daryl how I feel without having a horrendous panic attack. I don't know if I can even explain it to him." She covered her face with her hand. "I don't know what I expect you to do. You're just the only person I trust to not tell Daryl or...do something embarrassing and force me to rip the band-aid off."_

" _He ain't gonna hurt you no more."_

" _I know, but at the same time I don't." She blinked hard to keep the tears from falling. "The first time I went out with Sophia, a car backfired, and my mind jumped to the sniper killing her. She was bent over, tying her shoes, and I thought the worst. I couldn't breath, and—and I couldn't begin to understand the emotions that overwhelmed me, before I realized she was all right."_

" _You can't let him have this much power over you."_

" _I wish "letting" him was the problem. It's like a fact. When I'm happy and have someone I love dearly around, he has to...obliterate them. Every second I am happy, he...demands I feel twice as much anguish and guilt. I always expect it, and it comes. It always comes. I just don't know the form it'll take." She ran a hand through her hair. "He'd kill random people in the street to keep me from enjoying a weekend or holiday. It was in the brief window before the Governor recruited him but before Sophia. He'd leave me bread crumbs, and I'd try to follow them, but I was wasted all the time, and he left no traces behind."_

" _He can't touch you from in here. If he could, he would've had y'all killed already."_

" _How do I know he hasn't already made plans to have us killed in the future? That he won't at some point call up some random hit man and say the word? I can't imagine he'd let me go without a fight."_

 _Merle puckered his lips and nodded. "All right."_

" _What?"_

" _Go home, Carol. Get some sleep and try not to think about him. It'll sort itself out."_

" _That's your advise? Sleep?" She supposed it was better than therapy and meds. "I do need to sleep. It's been a few days."_

" _Days?" he exclaimed. "And you drove down here?"_

" _A friend brought me."_

" _What friend?"_

" _Lerner. She had to meet with a prisoner here, and I was hoping you could help me."_

" _And I will, just give me some time. Now get out of here."_

 _She smiled weakly. "Okay, Merle. It was nice to talk about this. I can't tell Daryl or Sophia or my brother. They'd...freak out on me, but thank you for listening to me."_

" _I doubt you'll remember this once you've slept."_

 _She flashed a dazing, genuine smile and rose out of her seat. "Goodbye, Merle. I'll bring the girls next time." She set a hand over his. "Happy birthday. Daryl should stop by with Sophia later."_

 _He nodded. "Take care of 'em, okay?"_

" _Always." She strolled out of the room then turned on her heel and grabbed her tea. "Now I'm leaving."_

" _Wait." He noticed the string hanging out of her cup. "That ain't coffee."_

" _It's tea." She sipped it._

" _You never answered me on the scare."_

 _She smiled shyly. "It was a bit of both, but only one is a problem." She tapped her finger on the cup. "You know which."_

 _He nodded. "Get some sleep, Carol."_

" _Goodbye." She waved once and sauntered out of the room, nodding to the guard. She glanced back at Merle and grasped her locket, exhaling and smiling to herself. She could handle this. It wasn't as though she had to tell him tomorrow. They weren't there yet, and there was time to work through this. There was, and Merle was right. The sniper himself couldn't harm her, and unless it was him, he didn't get off on it. It was all right. It was all right! It had to be..._

 _Merle finished his coffee and sucked air in through his teeth. He had a few favors to call in and a woman to manipulate. Anything for blood, or future blood, he added. She was still able, and clearly it was a possibility. He couldn't keep his brother safe, but he would always keep his niece and her possible future siblings safe, so he had calls to make._

––

"You?" Daryl's jaw hit the floor. "No, no. There's no way."

He held a finger to his lips.

"You—you put the hit out for him?" Daryl hissed through his teeth. "You?"

"I know a lot of people, little brother."

Daryl buried his face in his palms. "Shit."

"We do what we gotta do for family, and Carol needed this. He got what was comin' to him."

"She wanted him to rot in prison, not be shanked in the yard," he growled. "She brought him to justice on her terms and then you just turn around and—and call in a hit? What the hell, Merle?"

"Did her a favor. One day, she'll see that."

Daryl snorted. "Sure, I bet."

"The point is she only told you she loved you once he was dead, right?" Merle ignored the tone in his brother's voice. "Saved your relationship, didn't it? I did my part, now it's your turn. Propose."

"I ain't ready for that, and neither is she. Stop with the proposal shit."

"You brought it up, not me."

"You're annoyin' as all hell."

"It's my job." He grinned. "Just do us a favor and marry this woman. I like her. She's...a bit of a mess, but who the hell ain't? At least she can relate to our shit. You know you have cute kids, and y'all already live together. What's a piece of paper and metal gonna change?"

"It could change everything!"

"Okay, she had a pregnancy scared. If it had been real, would you have married her?"

"What?"

"Would you have married her if she was havin' your second kid?"

"I—I don't know. I mean, I love her enough to, but it'd be up to her. She—We've never talked about marriage, and I don't know if she'd even want that. She hates weddings."

"Give her a reason to love 'em."

Daryl glared. "You don't understand. Drop it."

"Daryl, the woman came to _me_ for help. She wanted to tell you she loved you, and she came to me—me of all her family and friends—to help her. She was sleep deprived and stressed out, but still. If she won't say yes to you then the sky is whiskey and the ocean is marshmallows."

That was true. He could only recall one time Carol hadn't been able to sleep, and it'd been bad. She was about one step away from hallucinating, but he made her dinner and some warm milk. He wrapped her in about a million blankets, and the girls and he stayed with her all night. She slept for nearly an entire day. She was so adorable the next morning, albeit disoriented and starving, but adorable.

"Enough with the lovey-dovey smile. Get out of here." Merle lightly kicked his leg as any other form of physical contact would catch the guard's attention. "Bring my damn nieces next time, all right?"

"Okay." He rose out of his seat. "Thanks, Merle."

He slapped him on the back hard enough to leave a mark. "You're welcome, Daryl."

– – –

"What are you talking about?" Carol unloaded groceries, leaving the bag filled with party supplies at the end of the island. "I'm picking up the cake at noon, and Mom's cooking. My mom, Gloria. You guys are flying in at six in the morning, so there'll be plenty of time to have brunch."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just stressed. It's been a crazy week."

"I know. It has been for me too. Just relax, Spence. Leave it to me and Aiden. All you have to do is catch a flight, and don't you dare forget my niece, okay?"

"I'd have to be blind."

"I have to go, but I'll see you tomorrow."

"All right. Bye."

"Bye." She hung up and greeted Daryl with a smile. "You're home early."

"I ducked out early. It wasn't an eventful day." He helped her with the groceries. "I wanted to be here when you got home anyway."

"Is today a special occasion?" She tensed, holding a box of oatmeal. "Because if it is, I have no idea what is it."

He laughed. "No, it's just Tuesday."

"Oh, thank God." She exhaled and set the oatmeal in the cabinet. "I normally know anniversaries and birthdays, but Spencer keeps calling to make sure everything is in place. My head only has space for Mom's birthday."

"I can lend you a hand with that." He abandoned the popcorn to encircle her in his arms, and she kissed him eagerly, her arms at his waist. "We got time before we have to pick up the girls."

"Tempting, but I really do only have room for the party. I still have to wrap our gifts and make sure Mom has room for all of us. We have to pick up a couple chairs already, so I need to do that tonight." She kissed him once more. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. You want this to be special."

"It's the first birthday I get to spend with her, and I know there'll be plenty more, but it's our first together, you know? I want make up for all the birthdays I missed, like she did with me. I want it to be special." He nodded. "I'll make it up to you."

"Just have dinner with me on Friday. Deanna leaves then, and it'll be just the two of us. I got Andrea to babysit for us. All you have to do is say yes."

"Yes."

He kissed her and returned to the box of popcorn. "Are you takin' the girls to see Merle on Thursday?"

"Yeah. Mom wants to meet him, and I tried to talk her out of it, but she wants to meet everyone in my life, even my child's uncle. I hope he behaves."

"Yeah, me too." He lost his grip on the pack of noodles and dropped down to pick them up.

"You okay?" She bent down. "Is it your arm?"

"It's fine. Just slipped out of my hand."

"Okay." She lowered her head and groaned at the sight. "When was the last time anyone cleaned under the fridge?"

"2001?"

"I think something's moving under there." Her nose crinkled. "Great. Now I have more to clean tonight."

"More to clean? Carol, this place is immaculate." He straightened. "It looks like we're tryin' to sell it."

"You're right, but that needed to be cleaned...about oh, fourteen years ago."

He chuckled. "I'll get the mop."

"I'll get the bucket."

"After we put the groceries away, right?"

She chuckled, frazzled by her packed to-do list. "Yes." She moved behind him to put the bread away.

He set his hand over the bulge in his pocket, glancing over his shoulder at her, and he was relieved he'd managed to tuck it back in his pocket before she noticed when he "dropped" the noodles. The last thing she needed to know was why he hadn't gone in to work today. These type of things involved a certain degree of surprise.

––

Carol and her brothers—all three of them—arrived at Gloria's to help set up. It wasn't going to be a big party, just dinner and cake and ice cream and gifts. Reg was showing Deanna the city with Leslie, Sophia and Mika right now, and Daryl was going to pick them up at four to bring them over. Carol had to prematurely cut out to pick up the cake, but that wasn't for a while now. She set the alarm on her phone and asked her mom to remind her. After barely escaping brunch with them, she didn't want to risk anything going wrong.

"The last time we hung a birthday banner?" Caesar came off the stool.

"We were barely teenagers." Carol tied a ribbon around the handle to the gift bag. It was from Sophia and Mika both. A lovely set of perfumes and candles with a book of poetry. Reg had given them the idea. "I think it was your fourteenth birthday, right? Mom decked this place out with banners and confetti and those annoy little plastic whistles."

"You nearly shoved it down my throat."

"You kept blowing it." She signed the card and set it inside, rising. "Right in my ear, if you'll recall."

"Yeah, yeah."

Carol placed her gift beside the others and moistened her lip. She remembered that birthday very well. Mom had wanted to make it special. It was the first birthday without Karen. It never felt right to celebrate that year, but they had to. It was Caesar's fourteenth birthday, and it wouldn't go by unnoticed. Mom refused to let that happen, and Carol helped her out. So did a couple of her relatives. They wanted to make it a good birthday, and in some ways it was the best, but in some ways it was the worst too. It wasn't the cake or gifts or company; it was the glaring reminder that yet another year had passed without Karen here. He put on a show for Mom's sake, but at the end of the day the cake had no taste and the gifts weren't the one he truly wanted. It's difficult to move on and celebrate after something like that happens. They tried, and it was enough for that year.

"For Carol's eighth birthday," Spencer recounted to Caesar, "Dad rented a bounce house. It was huge, and we all wanted to jump in it, but Mom wanted to wait until everyone arrived. Well, Carol couldn't wait, so she crept inside."

"Sounds like her," he muttered.

"Shut up." Carol nudged him on her way to the kitchen. "Hey, Mom, how are you in here?"

"I'm fine." She offered Carol a taste of dinner. "What do you think?"

"It's delicious." She smiled. "Thanks for cooking all this. It means a lot."

"Were it not for the Monroes, I never would have gotten you," Gloria stated, "so I'm happy to help. Besides it's not every day my entire family willingly comes over for dinner. It's like pulling teeth to get you all here, so of course I jumped on the opportunity to get you all here."

Carol laughed. "Thanks, Mom." She hugged her from behind and checked her watch. "I have a cake to pick up. Good luck with the boys."

"Please, I'll whip them into shape."

"Don't I know it?" She gathered her keys and purse, heading to the front door, and she heard Aiden call to her. "What?"

"I'll ride with you."

"You sure? Mom might need a hand here."

"I checked with Caesar and Gloria and Spence. They'll be fine. Plus, Andrea and the girls will be here soon. Keira picked out a lot of balloons, and Caesar called dibs on blowing them up." He leaned toward her. "You know what he's gonna be doing, right?"

"Him and Spence, you mean?" She nodded. "We might have to pick up a second helium tank."

"Then I shall carry it." He smirked. "You know that cake's gonna weight more anyway, and I'd rather man the tank."

She rolled her eyes but wore a smile. "Okay."

"Hey." Caesar caught them on their way out. "Be careful out there, all right?"

They departed the house once he was satisfied they'd return in one piece, Caesar prepared his old bed as a napping area for Emelita, and Spencer assisted Gloria in the kitchen. He was fond of cooking, and he loved to help his mom out when he was a kid, so he leaped on the opportunity to lend Gloria a hand. She was making a few of his mom's favorite things, and she was making Andrea an entirely different meal. She wasn't a big fan of pork to begin with. It wasn't a bother to Gloria as Keira didn't like it all that much either, and she didn't have to waste Spencer's aid. Two in the kitchen made easier work of a meal for thirteen, fourteen people. She was grateful her family was large and this was child's play, otherwise she'd make Carol and Caesar do all the cooking.

Gloria heard a knock on the door and greeted her daughter-in-law and granddaughters with a hug, and Spencer took the bags gently out of Andrea's hands.

"She's asleep." Andrea pointed to the baby strapped to her chest. "I'll be back down after Caesar and I get her situated."

Gloria nodded and closed the door, smiling to Keira. "C'mon, bella, let's ice some cookies."

Andrea carefully climbed the stairs and walked to Caesar's room, tenderly freeing Em from the carrier, and Caesar hopped up from his desk to lend her a hand. Andrea set the sling on the bed and bent down as Caesar made Em comfortable on the bed, and she brushed her fingers over the hairs on her head. She smiled at the small yawn her daughter gave, and she remembered why she loved babies so much. They were a nightmare, but the little clothes and little yawns and little giggles were worth it. They were so precious.

"C'mere." He returned to his desk and caught her wrist when she was close, and he pulled her down onto his lap. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise? A good surprise? Or one of your surprises that leave me annoyed and with a mess to clean up?"

"It's a good one. Carol helped me put it together. Aiden too. He found the place for us." He pointed to the laptop screen, and she sighed, leaning over to read it. "It's a cabin in Georgia. It's affordable, and it's ours for the week of Beth and Noah's wedding."

"An entire week?" She shook her head. "It sounds great, but we have an eight-year-old, and a three month old. We can't stay away for an entire week."

"Yes, we can. Carol gets back after the wedding, and she agreed to watch Keira and Emelita. She doesn't mind, and she found a babysitter for when she has to work." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "It'll be just us and the woods for an entire week, and if you feel anxious about leaving Em, Carol's a phone call away. Or you can video chat with her and the girls."

"I'm not that bad," she groused. "I can handle leaving her alone."

"She'll be six or seven months by that time," he continued, as if not hearing her. "I'm sure your fears will vanish by then."

She grumbled. "All right, but you owe me a massage."

"Tonight, or when we get down there?"

"When we get down there. I'll need someone to undo all of the tension of abandoning my babies." She smirked and kissed him. "Besides it was kinda of fun last time."

"Says the one who received the massage."

She chuckled. "You know you enjoyed it."

"I didn't say I didn't," he murmured against her lips. "Just that you were the only one to get a massage."

"Because you're incredibly impatient and easily aroused."

"Only by you."

"Good." She kissed him slowly, savoring the moment before they had to join the others and finish the preparations for the birthday party. She would happily sing and give a present to Deanna when it was time, but right now she just wanted to be here, with her husband, without a screaming infant or young child demanding help with homework or art and crafts.

Caesar pulled back and bumped his nose against her, commenting, "By the way, you lied."

"Huh?" She brushed an eyelash from his upper cheek. "About what? When?"

"When you were pregnant, you said you could function on a twenty minute nap," he answered, "but you can't barely move on twenty minutes."

"And you're just now saying something? A _year_ later?"

"I haven't had a lot of time on my hands, all right?" She was laughing at him. "And I'm slow to come backs. It's called, like, staircase wit or something. I dunno, look it up."

"You're stupid." She cupped his cheek. "But you're also adorable."

"I can live with that." He smashed his lips against hers.

––

"Get down!" Caesar softly hissed at Carol. "I called the chair, and you know it, so just move it."

"Make me."

He heard the voices outside grow louder, and he dropped down beside her, wishing he'd hid with Andrea, and he shoved Carol with his elbow. She nearly fell over, and he snorted, apologizing. She poked him in the side, and he narrowed his eyes, not trusting her finger against his rib, and he was right to when she tickled him. He hit the lamp trying to squirm away, but before he could retaliate, in came the Monroes and Daryl.

"Surprise!"

"Oh, God!" Deanna grasped her heart and chuckled at the sight of them. "That's a great way to greet an old woman!"

They laughed with her, Carol smirked at her brother and moved out from behind the chair to greet their guests and birthday girl, and Caesar collected coats. Once the hugs and laughter died down, they began to just catch up. The living room became a mess of human bodies, laughter and iced drinks. They had broken up into little groups, talking about the anything and everything that amused or filled in blanks of the past couple weeks, and the air was pleasant. It was filled with family and warmth—possibly too much, as they had to kick on the AC—and teasing.

Carol was caught up in a conversation with her brothers, picking on Caesar as he'd tried to steal her spot, and he gave it right back, divulging some embarrassing details of her younger years. She wanted to kill him, but she just as many secrets and dirt on him. It was all in good fun, and the real shit they kept locked away, never to share with anybody ever. The real shit wasn't even capable of being funny, no matter how it was worded or verbalized.

They lost Aiden to Keira and Mika, who came begging for him to play a game with them. They were begging all four of them, but only Aiden caved. Carol had to fish out the board games for them since Caesar didn't trust the ladder with his weight, and Carol volunteered, not wanting Andrea on the rickety thing, or any of the girls. She'd been on it many times in the past, so she trusted herself to be able to know if it was going to give. She and Caesar decided then what they were buying Mom for her birthday.

Sophia and Leslie were on their phone, wandering the house and yard, playing some app. The others weren't sure if Reg either interested in the game or playing it himself, but when they all came to Deanna to ask if they could take a walk around the block, they had their answer. She laughed at how eager they were, and she decided to tag along with them for some fresh air.

"Stay with Grandma, all right?" Spencer said to Leslie. "And keep an eye on your surroundings and your cousin."

"Yes, Dad, okay. I know." She huffed. "We'll be fine."

"I'll be with them the whole time." Deanna patted his arm. "I won't let anything happen to them."

"Yeah, but it's three kids," Carol commented, pointing to Reg, Leslie and Sophia. "Are you sure you can keep up with them?"

"I kept up with you three pretty well."

"True." Carol pushed off the wall and reminded Sophia to stay close and of their alert word should she get lost. "Be good, okay?"

"Come with us." Sophia grinned. "Please, Mom, please. You're always around when the good ones show up anyway."

"You want me to tag along with you guys so you can get better at your game?"

"Pretty much."

Carol released a short, scoff of a chuckle. "It's a decent day, and I could use the air, but you'll have to show me how to play this game. I've already lost three of you to it, and I'd like to know why."

"Sure!"

"I'll come too." Daryl opened the door for Reg and the girls. "It can't hurt to take a walk."

"We'll be back soon." Carol waved to Mika and her mom, pulling the door closed.

Gloria took the opportunity to rest her feet, and Caesar brought her a plate of snacks and a drink, plopping down beside her. She reprimanded him on that, and he apologized, vowing he wouldn't do it again, although he'd done it since he was tall enough to sit on the couch. She chuckled at her lying son, and he returned it, seeing Andrea on the stairs with Em.

Andrea had checked in on her, and when she did, it was the moment Em woke up. She changed her diaper and calmed her cries, not wanting to dampen the mood, but the large of the group had gone. She didn't want to ask where they went, or at what time they'd be back. She was grateful it was quiet. Quiet kept Emelita calm. Well, for the most part.

Gloria observed her son and daughter-in-law with their child. "She seems to be doing better."

"She still has fits," Andrea agreed, "but she is."

"She just needs to spend more time with her daddy," Caesar joked, wiggling her little hand that was curled around his index finger. "Don't you, mi corazón? Hmm?"

"Because we need you rubbing off on her," Gloria shot back.

Andrea giggled. "I know, right?" She adjusted the bow on Emelita's head. "I don't know how in the world I'll manage having his son."

"You'll do fine," Gloria assured her. "Do what I did: leave him with family."

"You want him?"

"Madre de Dios, no. I barely survived him."

"Thanks, guys. Dissing my unborn son." He lifted Em from Andrea's lap. "My daughter doesn't need this kind of negativity in her life. Keira, let's go. I think I saw some cookies we can munch on."

"No, not yet. I've almost won." Aiden rolled the dice. "Give her two minutes."

"Is that _Monopoly_?" Andrea stretched to see the game. "I hate that game."

"Because you suck at it," Caesar muttered.

"No. No. I hate it, because it's a mess of people taking your money and going to jail. It's a horrible game."

"I suckered her into playing when I was house-sitting for Mom while she went to visit family," he supplied and snickered. "She lost every time. She threw the board and stormed out of the dining room."

"I had too much wine." She scrunched her nose at him. "I would have won had I been sober."

"Uh-huh."

"Fine, you want to uh-huh. The next game, we're playing, and we'll see who wins."

"As long as I get the same celebratory kiss as the first time." His smirk suggested to the adults in the room it wasn't just a kiss they'd shared.

"Don't you have cookies to eat?" Gloria didn't want to know _that_ much about her child and daughter-in-law.

"I do. Come join me when you're done, Keira. I'll give you some tips on how to kick butt." He strolled into the kitchen to find the cookies they hadn't iced. He didn't like icing much, and he didn't want that icing to be the first kind Em tasted. Mom's was great, but not first time tasting icing great, not the like the delicious icing one the cinnamon rolls at the Jones' Cafe. Man, he was drooling just thinking about it He would never tell his mother this, or he wouldn't live to make a son.

"How are you two?" Gloria wagged her finger from the kitchen where Caesar and Em had gone to and back to Andrea. "You seem happy. Well, happier."

"We are." Andrea couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips and shined in her eyes. "Some of the space that used to be there between us...is gone. His therapist has helped him immensely, and I can't than her enough. I think he's finally come to terms with all that he's lost."

"Good. That's good."

"How are you?" Andrea scooted closer.

"It's been a long week with Carol and these boys calling me, but I love having the house full. It makes me less lonely."

Andrea frowned and grasped her hand. "You're not alone."

"Once you all leave," she amended with a quiet tone, "I am."

"If you ever feel lonely, come by our home." Andrea squeezed her hand. "We don't have much room, but we love having you over. The girls adore you, especially Em. She loves a cushy lap." She was no fan of Amy's bone-y lap, or so Andrea teased her.

"I just might." She pinched her chin affectionately, and Andrea returned it with a one-armed hug.

––

"I don't get why they love it so much." Carol traipsed behind the girls with Deanna. "It's a little silly."

"To each his own," Deanna remarked. "I didn't understand half the games Spencer and Aiden used to play."

"I guess." She kept an eye on Sophia and Reg. "So, were you really surprised? By the party."

"No, Reg let it slip two days ago."

"Of course." She pursed her lips. "Great job at fooling everyone."

"I couldn't let a good surprise go to waste." She winked.

Carol beamed. "Did you have a good day looking at the city?"

She nodded. "We hardly got to see it last time we came, and it was nice." She looped her arm through Carol's. "Your daughters are lovely company, too. Mika's such a gentle soul."

"She is. She gets it from her father."

"Sophia will make a fine detective one day." She smirked at Carol's grimace. "She hasn't stopped talking about it all day."

"I was hope she'd drop it by now, but evidently not." She slid her free hand into her back pocket. "I guess we'll have another cop in the family one day."

"I could try and persuade her to follow a different career path."

"No, it's all right. It's her life, her dream, and I won't stop her from trying to do it. I'll just hope she changes her mind." It was the simpler solution, considering Carol couldn't arrest every criminal and potential criminal in New York by the time Sophia graduated college. She could—and likely would—try, but it was fruitless. Sophia's dreams were her own, and Carol would proudly support her no matter what they were. She'd just have to pray more in church.

"She'll do great, like her mother and uncle."

"I have no doubt." She inhaled. "She'll thrive in any field she applies herself to."

Deanna peered at her. "How are you lately? You seem distracted."

"It's been a crazy couple of weeks." She tried to laugh it off, but Deanna wasn't having it. She swallowed and cursed softly. Gloria had already dragged it out of her, now it was Deanna's turn. Next time she should simply sit them down and spill her guts, at least to avoid having to do it twice. "Recently a criminal I knew was killed. He was a terrible man, and he nearly ruined my life."

"I'm not sorry he's gone."

"Nor am I, but..." She lowered her voice so Daryl wouldn't hear. "But now that he's gone, certain alternatives I thought weren't an feasible are, and it's...stressful, to say the least."

"What sort of alternatives?"

She moistened her lips. "Marriage, for one. Having another child. Going on trips. Living...without fear that he'll take someone away from me."

Deanna drew Carol closer at the tears glossing in her eyes. "Honey, it's all right."

"It's overwhelming," she corrected. "I don't know what to do, or what I even want."

"Marriage and having children isn't something you decide to do alone," Deanna reminded her. "I suspect this trip isn't something you've planned alone either."

"It wasn't planned by me at all."

"Do you want to go?"

"Of course I do."

"Then go." She stopped Carol from walking and locked eyes with her. "I don't know every detail of your life, but I know how difficult it's been for me. I can't imagine the struggles you've endured, but I think that was enough, don't you? All of your struggles and worry and doubts about your life showed up early on, so now is the time to just relax and have some damn fun. Take a trip. Get married. Adopt a puppy! Do whatever makes you happy, because at this point you damn well deserve it."

She pitifully laughed through her nose. "I see your point, but—"

"No buts. You need...to see the infinite possibilities laid out before you. There are hitches, of course, there always are in life, but don't let it stop you. You've been bogged down for so long. You can't live like that. Trust me on this. You'll miss out on the best times of your life—of your children's lives—if you don't say to hell with it now and then." She exhaled deeply, wistfully. "Carpe diem."

She smiled. "I can't promise you anything."

She smooshed Carol's cheeks with her hands. "Just try. Say you'll try."

"I'll try." She giggled and hugged her. "I'll try."

"Okay." She rubbed her back. "If that boy tries to propose to you, tell him he needs my blessing first. Only the best for my kids."

She chuckled. "He already knows. Mom made it known he has to ask _all_ of my parents. And brothers." Thankfully not cousins or uncles or aunts, because Daryl would have to run all over the city, and they'd probably be...a thousand by the time he got back. A hyperbole, sure, but the Martinezes were a _large_ family.

She nodded. "Good, because I'll kick his ass if he doesn't."

"I wouldn't bet against you."

"And you shouldn't. I may be small, but I have a great right hook."

"Hey, slow pokes, come on!" Reg called to them through cupped hands. "We wanna make it back before next year!"

The girls laughed, Carol shook her head, Daryl tried to hide his chuckles, and Deanna nudged them both in the ribs when they closed the gap separating them. Sophia and Leslie were on the hunt for some nearby creature, Reg and Deanna were their designated watchers to keep them safe, so Carol felt plenty at ease to claim Daryl's hand and slowly amble behind them.

"You grew up here?" Daryl laced his fingers through hers.

"Yes. We used to play stick ball back there in that lot. I tended to watch with Karen, but Caesar loved it." She scanned the street. "Oh, a couple of us went caroling through here. Mom forced us to go, but it was worth it. We got home and had hot coco to warm us up and for our throats. She said it was optional the next year."

"How old were you guys?"

"Eleven. I suspect she only forced us to go so I'd have the experience. She never said, but I had my suspicions." A glow overtook her face, and her eyes glistened fondly. "She let me bake cookies for the stores I stole from. I—I never told them I stole what may have been hundreds of dollars worth of produce, but I did what I could to make up for it."

"You had to what you had to do to survive."

"I know."

He didn't want to dwell on the poor part of her childhood. "What else?"

"What else? Hmm." She raised a hand to the shop down the street. "That's where I met Gloria. It's how I survived really."

"Can we got here?"

"Not today. We have plenty of food at home, and if we go there, Caesar will smell it on us somehow. He's like a bloodhound when it comes to Eastman's place. He'll want his usual, and he won't shut up until gets it. We already have one crying baby at home, let's not make it two."

He snorted. "All right. We'll go there for our next date."

"How romantic." She curled her hand around his forearm. "I can't wait, but lunch date, right?"

"Yeah, lunch date. Once Deanna's gone, we'll go there for lunch. Or we could go while she's still here."

"Both sound great. She'd like the chicken and avocado..." She glanced over and halted.

"What?" He followed her gaze to an alley where a couple of kids were playing. They were drawing with chalk, an older woman who was either the babysitter or the mother was with them, doodling and complimenting them. She laughed at some of their silly sketches, but it wasn't out of the ordinary. Unless...

"Was this the place?"

She nodded.

"C'mon." He tried to pull her away, but she wouldn't move. "Carol, you don't need—"

"It's all right, Daryl." She waved at the little boy who spotted them watching, and she walked forward. "That part of my past is in the past. It can't touch me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She faced him. "You can't protect me from every dark corner, Daryl. You know that, right? As a cop, I'll meet many of them with many varying creeps hovering there, and it's not okay, but I can handle it."

"I know, but me knowing doesn't mean I can't try and prevent you from...reliving it. I know it's in your past, and nothin' I do now can change it, but I don't want you goin' back to that place. I've been there, and I've gone back to that place in my head, and I fuckin' hate it. I hate it, and I don't want...you to go there again."

She smiled and stepped toward him. "You can't protect me from my thoughts, my memories, but don't worry. I don't go there often, and the times I do...aren't anything." She grasped his hands. "It's just an alley. It doesn't scare me."

He nodded.

"And speaking of scaring me," she continued, "I want to take that trip with you. I know I agreed before, but...well, you know what happened. I wanted to reiterate that I fully intend to go. I'm looking forward to it." _Don't oversell it, Williams!_

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's...something I need to do, and I'd love to go with you. It'd be nice to get away for a long weekend." She set a hand on his chest. "I'm also mentioning drugging me again. I'm not joking, just be prepared."

He grinned at her. "Yeah...yeah, I'll be prepared." He cleared his throat. "We can talk about it more later, once the party is over and we're not...in the middle of the street." She chuckled. "We'll get it all figured out. Probably not tonight, but maybe over our lunch date. Er, I mean, it won't be for a while, right?"

"Not this month, but why not next month like you said?"

"Yeah, I still got some of it worked out. We can go from there." He wrapped his arm around her waist. "We'll take it slow, so I don't have to sedate you. How does that sound?"

"Slow would be great." She exhaled, still feeling apprehensive over this plan, but screw it. "I'm sorry about my issues."

"Don't be. I get it. I got 'em too."

"I know." They'd gone into depth about their scars a couple nights after their second time together. Carol could barely calm the flames rising in her stomach at his story, but it appeared to be an old wound. The damage done by his father had been cured by Sophia, and she was thankful even more for their little girl. She wished she could do more for him, but just like her old wounds there was nothing he could do. It was in the past where it belonged, and while it reared its ugly in now and then it wasn't enough to ruin her life entirely. She had people to turn to if it did, and he had her if he needed her. He'd always have her. She hoped he knew that.

She noticed Deanna and Reg and the kids were nowhere in sight. "Well, we've lost our group."

"Can't leave your mom with those kids on her birthday," he noted. "Let's go catch up to 'em."

– – –

They returned to the house in two groups only minutes apart, Gloria and Aiden were setting the table, and the food smelled yummy. It looked even more delectable. It was a pleasant mix of the meats and sweets, and they were practically drooling while stripping off their coats. They washed up and gave Gloria and Aiden a hand with the table and extra chairs, making Deanna sit because it was her birthday.

It was a train wrecking trying to get plates made, but they managed and survived with no shattered plates or cups, and no food was dropped. Deanna said a few words of thanks, lingering on her children and the hostess, and they dug in. Within minutes conversation about sports and work filled the room, despite Gloria trying to keep the shop talk to a minimum. It couldn't be avoided. Luckily it wasn't gory or tedious talk.

The girls were lost their own conversation, trying to explain something about their game. They weren't allowed to have their phones at the table, so they were trying to describe it by memory. It was hilarious, and Carol found herself laughing at them more than once. She wasn't the only one, but she was the only one they pointed out for teasing them. She couldn't even get through an apology, and Daryl had to say it for her, playfully shaking his head at her with feign disappointment.

Spencer and Caesar were arguing about their ideal houses and finding them in the city. It wasn't an actual fight, and nobody was serious, but they were very passionate. Caesar kept insisting Spencer didn't know what he was talking about having grown up in Ohio. He didn't get what it was like here, and Spencer laughed and said he knew it well enough. They went back and forth for most of the dinner, stopping only when Emelita grew fussy in her pin, and she wouldn't take her bottle. Caesar tried every way he knew, but she wouldn't take it from him, and Andrea was about to take her, but Spencer offered. He was able to get her to take it. Sadly, she wouldn't let him go after that. She latched on to people, and today it was Spencer. Daryl was relieved.

Gloria and Deanna chatted about recipes and life. Gloria and she had become friends rather quickly, both women fiercely protective of Carol. They found a way to bond over that, and they were forming plans for Gloria to come and visit them at their home, let Deanna knock her socks off with her cooking. Reg was pleased by the idea, ecstatic Deanna had found a friend who didn't want to hook their child up with Aiden. He avoided the people Deanna invited over, because of their many questions on Aiden's love life. Somehow the "bad boy" angle made him popular. He didn't want to know why.

"Are you feeling okay?" Andrea set a hand on Keira's forehead.

"Yeah."

"You look a little pale." She touched her cheek. "You're a little warm."

"Mom, I'm okay." She shrugged a shoulder. "I haven't gone much sun."

"Uh-huh."

"I have some medicine," Deanna whispered to Andrea. "It prevents colds. I use it from time to time. It's safe for her to take."

"That'd be great. If she gets sick, so will her sister and Caesar, and I can't handle three sick Martinezs." Two of them became babies when under the weather, and no, the actual infant wasn't a part of that two.

"I'll give her a tablet after dinner."

"You'll have to trick her. She hates medicine."

"I have my ways."

"Do I want to know what you two are talking about?" Carol drank from her glass.

"Probably not." Andrea reached for her glass of water.

"I thought so."

––

After everyone finished eating and the girls collected the plates, Daryl put on a pot of coffee while Carol and Gloria and Andrea readied the birthday cake. Leslie and Sophia were itching to get back to their phones, but Spencer wouldn't hand them over until after the last slice of cake was cut.

The hum of Happy Birthday filled the dining room, Deanna blew out the candles and cut herself a slice. She left the rest of the cake for the others to cut and serve for themselves. She always hated trying to divide up a cake for multiple people, and she was content with her slice, and they would be contented too, by cutting it themselves. Nobody would complain or get cheated that way, or if they did get cheated, they could blame it on the previous cutter, not the birthday girl.

She settled on the couch with Reg, sharing the slice, and she smiled lovingly at her husband. "Thank you for this."

"It wasn't just me."

"No, I mean for all of it." She held his hand. "For adopting Carol and buying the house, for our boys and the business, the good times and the bad ones, for everything—thank you."

"You're welcome." He kissed her temple. "Dolor hic tibi proderit olim."

She cocked her head to the side, knowing what the translation to that was. "Hmm?"

"I heard you talking to Carol. Dolor hic tibi proderit olim. I don't know how much of it will take root in her, but your advise might keep her from making our mistakes. Living in the past isn't living, and I hope she takes what you said to heart."

"So do I." She cut off a bite of cake. "I already told Gloria if he proposes by the end of next year, we're walking her down the aisle. If he proposes the next year, she and you will."

He chortled. "Of course."

She grinned back around a forkful of cake.

Andrea and Carol decided to divvy up the cake, the boys grumbled that they could get their own, but they accepted their fate and thanked them for the plates they handed to them. Casaer manned the ice cream, giving out two massive scoops, and Andrea couldn't tell him to give less, because he looked so pleased with himself. She would regret it later when the sugar kicked in, but he would be there too, thus the hyper mess Keira would become would be his own fault. She wickedly grinned to herself and sliced her own piece of cake.

Carol handed Mika and Sophia a slice of cake with two scoops of ice cream Caesar scooped out for them, and she turned to ask Daryl if he wanted any, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. She wiped her hands on a cloth and checked with everyone. Aiden had seen him step outside.

"Thanks." She slipped out and found him on the steps. "Daryl?"

The sun had set hours ago between passing dinner rolls and making child-appropriate jokes, the cool of the fading winter air hung around them, and headlights of passing cars lit the road. Carol walked down the steps and sat beside him, setting a hand on his knee to try and get his attention. He instantly slid his hand over hers and held it.

He didn't utter a word, lost in his thoughts, and she didn't want to disturb him. She rested her head on his shoulder, leaning into him for warmth, and she looked up at the sky. She remembered _The Lion King_ —Caesar's favorite animated movie of all time—and how Mufasa said he'd been in the stars with the other kings. It comforted her when she was a child. She was scared she'd lose her home, her new family, and she told herself that if it happened, if the worst were to come and they'd all lose Gloria, she'd be there. She'd be up in the sky watching out for them, and Carol wouldn't be alone this time. It was morbid, but she always planned for the worst. Bad things seemed to follow her, so her caution wasn't entirely unjustified.

She gazed up at the stars now and knew Sam was up there. He didn't have to protect her or keep an eye on her, simply stand by her when she couldn't stand at all. She didn't prepare for the worst anymore, but she couldn't evade it forever. So on her worst days when she couldn't get out of bed, or didn't feel like she could keep going, she hoped he was there beside her with Karen to give her a nudge, to remind her that no matter what she couldn't give up. She had to be firm and keep her head up, because there were people in her life who needed her to do so. They would look to her, and she couldn't let them down as she had in the past. She would be what they needed and what she needed herself to be.

On the other hand, Sam could give her a gentle shove now and then for the lighter things. Like the trip Daryl and she were to take. It wouldn't be a walk in the park, but she was going. She had no clue where or when, but she was going with him. They were going to Beth and Noah's wedding as well. She'd yet to mention it with the birthday plans, but she would tell him tonight at home. She'd already told the couple they were attending, so he couldn't argue. Besides it was the country, and he liked the woods. It'd be fall and beautifully orange and brown and yellow. Who could say no to that?

She rubbed his arm with her thumb and lifted her head from his shoulder, scrutinizing him. _Would he say no?_

Daryl rolled his head to the side to peer at her. "What?"

"I'll tell you later." She combed unruly hairs from his eyes. "Do you wanna head back in?"

"Nah, not yet."

"Do you want me to leave you to your thoughts?"

"No." He tightened his grip on her hand. "I want you here. I need to talk to you."

"You can tell me anything—unless it's a crime. I can get on board with the Archer lie, but anything more is out of my hands." She was only half-teasing.

"Gonna slap some cuffs on me, detective?"

"Only if you make me," the rejoinder rolled off her lips, "crook."

A feeble smile crossed his lips. "Well, last time I recall...I enjoyed the cuffs."

"A little too much, I might add. First and last time I bring them home."

"Don't be so hasty."

She laughed. "If you're that upset about it, I'll reconsider, but I'm not promising you anything. I'm leaning toward leaving them at the office."

"Bet I can change your mind."

"We'll just have to see. I might need to use them again to be sure."

"I think you're right. A second go might help make up your mind." She laughed again, and he loved the sound of it. "I need to talk to you, and not about handcuffs."

"You sound serious." Her smile vanished. "What is it?"

"I went to see Merle last week, told him about how we were doin', and he told me..." He swallowed. "He said I should propose, but we never talked about marriage, or any of that."

"Do you want to get married?"

"Someday, maybe." He met her eyes. "Do you?"

"I never thought about it before. Rick and I... Well, there was no chance in hell of us getting married. And anyone else I was with, I was too young to consider marriage." She scratched her neck. "With us, though, I have thought about it. A lot these past couple days, and I would like to."

"Me too."

"You said that already."

He flushed. "Oh."

"I don't want to get married any time soon," she asserted. "I want to wait, to see if we'll last another year or not. I have a strong feeling we will, but just to be sure. We've only just gotten over one roadblock. Let's wait and see what else arises. Uh, is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's okay." He kissed her forehead. "Let's see where this goes."

She snuggled closer to him. "I love you, and I'm pleased with where we are now. Maybe in a year or even a couple months, I'll want more, but for now, I'm good. Well, I'm better than good, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah." He fondled her cheek and drew her near. "I love you too."

"I'm sure one day I'll love to be Mrs. Daryl Dixon, but for now I'm pretty damn content with this." She knew she was repeating herself, but it was oddly a challenge to scrape together words with him so close. She pressed her lips to his, their knees knocking together as they shifted to be face each other, and she chuckled against his lips at nothing in particular. She was definitely in love with him, no changing that, and she wouldn't want to.

"Hey, stop making out on the steps and get in here." Casaer stood in the doorway. "It's cold as balls out here. C'mon. We got the stereo on, and Deanna's gonna show us some of her moves."

"You're an asshole," Carol shot back. "But I can't miss that."

"I know, so hurry up, Williams." He shimmed back into the house to the beat of the song playing.

Carol laughed at her idiotic brother. "I'll be in soon. I just need a second."

"Be quick. It's gettin' colder." He kissed her once more and ducked into the house.

She tugged her sleeves over her knuckles, pulling her legs closer on the steps, and she listened to the sounds of her family laughing and cheering. She smiled and inhaled deeply, the warmth of the love in the house behind her filling her, and she grasped her locket. She brushed her thumb over the back of it, remembering every single time she'd done it in the past and how much it ached in the beginning. She had come a long way since. In spite of her cruel past, she had survived. Hell, she'd thrived, and now she had an endless road ahead of her, didn't she?

Raising from the steps, her smile widened. She did. Whatever came next, whatever the world threw at her, whatever she threw at herself, it was just another day. Tomorrow left endless opportunities for better. That was a lesson she'd taken quiet some time to learn; however, when everything felt stacked against you, better wasn't a word you consider or often use.

 _Although without those odds, I wouldn't be here, so it worked out,_ she thought to herself as she climbed the stairs. She tugged the door open and entered the house, gazing in on the dancing people in the living room and grinning broadly. She didn't waste any time joining the group of losers she called family.

There would be a lot of changes in their lives in the coming months and years, but they had come to understand that nothing would change, except what had to.

* * *

A/N: I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed We Didn't Start The Fire. This story has been with me and you readers for over a year, and I am proud of where it's taken me. I cannot express my gratitude and appreciation for all of you, those who reviewed and those who simply read. It was great to tell this story to you, and I hope I didn't disappoint or bore you with this. I'm happy with it, and I hope you are too. Thank you for letting me share my Caryl with you guys. You're truly amazing and beautiful, and just thank you.


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